


2.2 Million

by WriterReadsStuff



Series: A Billionaire’s Redemption [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But like also, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard’s parenting rubbed off on Tony, Human!Karen (mentioned), Hurt/Comfort, It’s both, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter is a Little Shit, Precious Peter Parker, Teen Romance, Tony is a bad father, but he gets over it, she really doesn’t show up at all, teen runaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 27,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterReadsStuff/pseuds/WriterReadsStuff
Summary: “It happens with kids all the time, he could be anywhere. Betcha Peter’ll be back come morning.” Happy urged, trying to calm his boss’s screaming. “He’s probably just at a party or something.” “Or he’s dead.” Tony added, tutting as he scrubbed through the security camera footage once more. “You sure that isn’t what you wanted?”“What?” Tony asked, looking towards his friend with confusion written all over his face. Happy looked back at him, shrugging as he mumbled out his response.“For him to be dead.”





	1. The Curse Of Fatherhood

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! This fic is to celebrate 205 tumblr followers! It was supposed to be for 200, but I sort of slept through the mark. Anyway, comments and kudos are much appreciated!

First off, nobody ever said it was illegal to hate your idiot of a fucking heir.

After all, Tony Stark never wanted to become a father. No, that just wasn’t his style. He planned to live out his days having nudist relations with every remotely attractive woman he came across _safely_, and never being cursed to worry about another human being’s shit. He had planned to hand over his company to some high-level employee with enough merit to not blow the Stark brand to smithereens, then die a very rich man. He planned a lot of things.

Things he had to abandon in favor of the frightening little 6 ounce monster his PR team insisted he house.

Just because the infant’s mother had willingly allowed 12 DNA tests to prove her son was Tony’s, such a thing never should have meant that he had to deal with the consequences of having a one-night stand with... whatever the mother’s name was. Maggie? Eh, who cares. He had begged them to let him shove the woman off with a wad of cash and a blank stare, but none of his team had agreed. The media outcry would be a nightmare if he didn’t take the baby in.

And even now, a decade and a half later with the mother long dead, he had to face the living reminder of everything he couldn’t do with his life.

Peter Benjamin Stark.

The kid, as Tony preferred to call him, had gotten his middle name from his uncle, a man whom Tony never intended to actually have the boy meet, and the lady Tony had knocked up never gave a reason to his first. Well, Peter Pan had always been Tony’s least favorite fairytale, so there was that.

And as he grew, Peter became even more of a nuisance. The kid was just so soft. A little ball of flounce and cotton balls that wouldn’t be any good in the business world. And even with the best private schools money could buy, the boy only cared to learn true academics. Never took a lesson in social skills or street smarts. Was he a genius? Hell yeah, the apple didn’t fall far from the Stark family tree when it came to the intelligence branch. Still, he was just barely not smart enough. Plus, he acted like a brat in almost every situation. Constant complaints could always be heard as he cried to his nanny about how “I don’t like chicken parmesan!”, and “my homework doesn’t make any sense!”, and “I wanna go play Xbox!”. Honestly, Tony would be shocked if he could ever pass by Peter’s room without being bombarded with the sound of incessant screaming and whining.

As if it could get worse, the boy had taken to a strong sense of curiosity after the events of 2008. Suddenly, he seemed to claim Tony as his hero, constantly trying to get a chance to visit with him in between business trips and galas. Or, sometimes, during business trips and galas, when Peter would be brought along as a plus one in place of Pepper for press purposes. Sometimes, he honest to god believed that he never had left that cave, and this was all just his personalized hell, tormenting him with childish endeavors and bothersome sleeve-pulling. The kid was a problem.

And then there was the next issue, the boy’s need to disobey behind closed doors. While he would act like the perfect angel he was meant to be in the public eye, Peter rarely listened to a word anyone said once he was back to the safety of his own room. The safety Tony provided for him, like everything else. He pouted, whined, and cried any time he was asked to build another engine, or to pose for a “candid” shot for instagram, or to sit still for his makeup artist, or to solve an equation, or to update his social media, or anything else. Hell, the kid lived in a skyscraper filled with superheroes, and he still wasn’t happy.

Which, obviously, would be why Tony wasn’t having it anymore. After another argument the night before, the kid had asked FRIDAY to lock access to his bedroom to anyone besides himself, including his father. While Tony had to accredit Peter for his sass, he was mostly just pissed that the boy thought it was appropriate behavior to run away from one’s problems. Where was the nanny when she was needed?

Oh, yeah. At a fucking funeral. Because, of course, the minute he needed Karen to discipline her charge she chose to run off.

_Bitch._

So, Tony was left to monitor Peter’s behavioral growth on his own, or- as Pepper would put it- watch the kid. The kid he paid to not have to look after, mind you.

“Baby girl, be a doll and open the door.” Tony asked, willing himself not to look at the celling like an idiot. “I’m sorry boss, but it appears my systems are temporarily out of order, and I do not have access to this door’s lock function.” Friday replied, sounding slightly smug through her automated tone. Of course she was on Peter’s side here, Tony could never create an invention that wouldn’t turn on him.

It was in that moment that Tony assumed the kid had simply hacked a five million dollar AI so he could play hooky in his room._ That little shit_, he thought. “Peter! Open the door!” Tony shouted, banging his fist against it. Peter was due for his makeup artist, in order to prepare for a public outing at the New York Hall Of Science. The boy couldn’t go if he wasn’t dressed and done up to a T, and if that happened, people would think he was a bad father for leaving his son at home. 

The problem was, the door never opened. In fact, Peter didn’t even reply to his father’s orders. There was only silence.

“Peter! Now!” Tony tried again, more stern this time. “Jessica needs you in the makeup chair, and I need a smiling teenage genius by my side within the next five seconds, or else this here door is gonna be coming down!” When nothing happened, he gave one last “I’m serious, Kid! Come out!” before he slowly began to count downwards in his head.

_One, Two, Three, Four, Five._

And when the door came down, the room was empty.


	2. Note To Self: Don’t Be Born A Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See you never -PBS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the constructive criticism and interactions! You guys really helped push me through this chapter.

Peter Benjamin Stark had known one thing for most of his young life.

He hated Tony. 

Tony- not Dad, never Dad in private, only Dad during interviews- had ruined his life. Or, rather, he’d created his life. Which was not only a dick move, but also selfish and disrespectful.

Peter never asked to be born, it wasn’t his choice at all. In fact, he didn’t get any choices in his life (or lack thereof, really). Why? Because he just had to be born into the richest non-monarchal bloodline ever seen in recorded history. Roman emperors may have envied him, but he had spent the majority of his time on earth preparing to fiddle while Stark Tower burned, if you’re willing to catch the reference.

Deciding to take on a child, or even the act of daring to do _the thing_ unprotected, was Tony’s way of asking for Peter to come into his life. Despite requesting the boy’s presence, though, the man treated him worse than the dirt on his shoe. 

At three years old, his nanny had informed him that Tony’s work was extremely important, and the man was not to be bothered by Peter unless they were out on a public outing. By the time he was five, Peter figured out that that was really just a trick to keep him from annoying Tony with literally anything. And once he was seven, Peter was officially over it, and he had decided that if Tony didn’t like him, he wouldn’t like Tony.

In toto, Peter wanted nothing more than to leave his life for good. He wanted to have friends, go outside, play sports, anything. Well, maybe not play sports. Still, it all seemed so elusive.

He’d never managed to make friends at school, rather preferring to spend as much of his time as possible far away from the snobby, rich heirs and heiresses that occupied the grounds of the prestigious Matthew Ellis Academy in northern Manhattan, so the very prospect of the friendships he’d heard about online filled his soul with a dire yen for such an experience.

And he was going to get it.

Tampering with FRIDAY was surprisingly easy, as he’d been doing it for years behind Tony’s back. His only problem was trying to block the security cameras. After nearly an hour of poking around through Tony’s intricate code, Peter elected to let the cameras see him. If anything, it would send a message.

He didn’t want anyone to think he’d been kidnapped, as it had happened a few times in the past. (That wasn’t to say that he didn’t like being kidnapped, especially considering that the people were usually fairly nice and treated him well- they were just looking for cash, but he hated the panic that was always caused. Seeing his own face on the news, hearing Tony pretend to give a flying shit about him, it was all too much.)

To avoid a panic, Peter grabbed a piece of paper from his desk, proudly emblazoned with his initials and a Stark Industries logo. He wrote quickly, allowing his natural chicken scratch to overthrow the polished calligraphy his nanny insisted he use.

_ See you never - PBS _

Was it rude? Most likely. Still, Peter didn’t care. He wanted Tony to feel bad. Wanted for him, even for the slightest moment, to understand why his only son would leave without a word. If the man understood him, perhaps even felt bad, maybe Peter would consider setting up a time to reunite. Not for a long time, though. Not until he was 18, so nobody could force him to come back to the tower. He wasn’t gonna make such a stupid mistake, or else the boy would be just as dumb as Tony thought he was.

Checking his bag one last time, Peter made a list in his head of the different things he’d need to get done before morning. Take the bus, get to the park, find a bench, wait. The potential obstacles of his journey stuck out like a sore thumb, distracting him from his task of shuffling through the bag. It was navy blue, adorned with no logos, and only cost ten dollars( He’d heard ten dollars was alot, but Peter wasn’t sure). Plus, it was lowkey enough to not attract suspicions.

Unless he wanted to run away from home with a $5,00000000 gucci backpack hanging across his shoulders, which he didn’t, Peter’s plan was to blend in.

He’d be normal, for once.

Or, as normal as he could be around her.

Nevertheless, he knew it was time to get going. The boy put on his bag, accompanied by a sweatshirt and jeans (with normal kid sneakers, that didn’t scream “I am Tony Stark’s Child™️! My dad fucking despises me! I’m running away from home to escape from him! Come arrest me!”).

And then... then he did it.

He walked out of the room, down the hallway, and out the elevator. It didn’t even feel momentous. It was almost... a relief. His whole body fell slack when he exited the lobby, knowing that, for the first time since his birth, there were no eyes on him. No nannies to keep him in line, no daunting security men holding him still, no personal driver to make sure he went where he was supposed to, no nothin’. Just Peter, the cold NYC rain, and his freedom.

And most importantly, no Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who the “her” is? I guess you’ll all have to find out... except the tags sort of spoil it. Oh well. See you next time!


	3. Amber Alert

Teams upon teams of men and women littered the tower, searching every crevice for a hint as to where Peter Benjamin Stark may have run off to. The security footage had been thoroughly coded over with a minutely skilled hand, which, being such basic coding, meant it took Tony a mere two hours to undo, but it still gave them everything they needed to absolutely guarantee that this was a runaway case.

A runaway case. Peter. Like some whiny teenage brat from the suburbs, he’d ran away from home. _The nerve of that boy_, Tony thought to himself as he prepared.

  
There, clear as day, was Peter Benjamin Stark, walking out through the front door. He’d made his way through the entire building undetected, wearing no more than a hoodie and jeans, alongside a backpack Tony had never seen before. Perhaps Karen had given it to the kid last Christmas, but he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been home last Christmas, preferring to take the chance to get away from Peter during the full duration of the most sugar-filled month of the year.

  
The real kicker, though, was that Peter had no coat. Like the idiot he was, he left the building without any cold protection. 

The police had assumed this was just Peter being a bad runaway, perhaps bad enough to come back home within a few days, but Tony, being a certified genius from the age of four, wasn’t in the mood for risking the chance of Peter getting on a train for Albuquerque and starting a new life as a plumber. After a few hours, they had given in to common sense and agreed to look for Peter. Unfortunately, though, that created another problem. Which was exactly why Tony was spending his precious hours listening to some cop lecture him in his own home.

  
“We don’t want to keep this too quiet, Mr. Stark. It would be much more beneficial for the search teams if the general public was made aware of the situation.” The lady with long, red hair told him. “Chances are he hasn’t even gotten out of Manhattan, yet. We can corner him with an Amber Alert.”

  
Tony looked the woman over, glaring slightly. “And what? Ruin my reputation? No thanks, Ariel.”

  
The woman sighed, leaning in closer to him as her broad chin demanded his attention.“If you aren’t willing to inform the public, we may have to report you to Child and Family Protective Services.” She smirked.

Holding the gaze, Tony allowed his deep brown eyes to harden under her scrutinizing presence as she began to speak to him like a mother to her child. “I’m sure that would be much worse for your reputation, though. Isn’t that right, Mr. Stark?” To which Tony was mortified. He glared back, taking the chance to read the name that had been engraved into her dogtag, and interrogate her in return. “Is that a threat, Ramona?” “It’s Ms. Lowry to you, Mr. Stark.” She began, not taking his threats into consideration like he had suspected. 

  
“Besides, this whole affair is hinging on protocol. Refusing to take proper care of your child, not noticing when he disappears in the middle of the day, and presumably causing your son to leave in the first place is exactly the kind of thing my training says should be reported.” Tony sighed, listening to her worthless ranting. However, as if she hadn’t noticed who she was even talking to, nor the fact that Peter was an incompetent joke of a son who was simply being rebellious, she continued to speak. “You could have a child neglect charge on your back if you aren’t careful. I’m giving you a chance to save yourself.”

  
“I’ll run it with my PR team.” Tony said, faking a polite smile with minimum effort, using the same toothless grin he gave to the paparazzi last week when they had surrounded him and Pepper during date night. Aka, a very annoyed face that screamed “get away” in all capital letters.

-

  
Tony stormed into the PR room, angrily groaning at the frightened faces around him. “They wanna tell the masses, send out an amber alert.” He told them, an inherited distinct lack of nonsense lingering throughout his diction. “Some bitch-” Tony paused for effect “-is saying they’ll get CPS involved if we don’t let them.”

  
Moments passed, silence in the boardroom. It wasn’t uncommon for the many idiots Tony had hired to control the maintenance of his image to draw a blank, but he quickly began to tap his foot as they failed to do their job and make him look good. After 4578 and a million other taps, one voice spoke up with timid obedience.

  
“Then let them.”

  
Tony stared, alongside the rest of the dumbfounded intellectuals. “What?” He asked the young man. “Are you kidding me? What am I paying you to do here?” The kid, an intern, probably, was red-faced and nervous. His forehead was dousing itself with sweat, refusing to allow the poor soul to articulate his thoughts. Instead, he stumbled over himself for thirty seconds, failing to complete a thought.

  
After waiting for his mind to cease, the man began. “Mr. Stark, if we send out an amber alert we can frame it as you being a concerned father, think about it.” He claimed, moving his hands alongside his words. “If we do it right, you’re the heartbroken billionaire pleading for the kid’s return. If anything, we can use it to our advantage.” The man was estatic now, thrilled by the prospect. “Please, just do it!”

  
Tony groaned, looking over the underpaid man with a clear look of distaste.  
Still, it wasn’t a bad idea.  
“Fine. If it backfires, it’s your job on the line.” He said. The man jumped, running over to shake his boss’s hand with a momentem that could only be a product of his own vigorous excitement. “Yes, sir!”

  
“Send out the alert, do your thing, get him back in that bed.” Tony said, wiping off his hands after coming in contact with the employee. He scoffed at himself, wondering if this exposure was putting him at risk of catching the others’ idiocy. Still, Tony knew that his genius was unparalleled for a reason, so he regained his usual swagger and strutted back into the main room to speak with the woman from before, who uttered a simple sentence in relief after hearing his decision.

  
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Stark.”


	4. The Streets of Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had managed to avoid being recognized fairly well, though he did catch a few people staring at him in confusion when he passed by an ad for a Stark Industries Christmas package, which featured a picture of Peter and Tony in ugly sweaters.
> 
> Peter remembered that shoot, it had sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this, haha. Finished it last week. Anyway, thank you all SO MUCH for the kind comments and kudos. It’s so much easier to write when I know you’re all waiting on me. Love you guys!

Peter was having the time of his life.

Sure, your average New Yorkers were a bit hastier than the business executives and hero-types Peter was used to, but everyone seemed so normal, so natural. Not a touch of corporate sponsorship or dual morals.

It was like being in a parallel universe. One where he didn’t have to worry about whether or not the nanny would remember to feed him (though, she always did, of course), or how fast his latest firewall could be undone. He wasn’t the foundation of some corporate office from hell, he was just Peter. Peter, a 15 year old boy who wanted nothing more than, well, humanity.

Peter had never once understood that word before now.

He had managed to avoid being recognized fairly well, though he did catch a few people staring at him in confusion when he passed by an ad for a Stark Industries Christmas package, which featured a picture of Peter and Tony in ugly sweaters.

Peter remembered that shoot, it had sucked.

As he walked through the bustling streets of upper Manhattan, he allowed his thoughts to flourish. He wondered if Tony had found the empty room as of yet, or if the man had not noticed. Perhaps he had come in to grab Peter for their outing later that day, as he was meant to be in the makeup chair nearly an hour ago. God forbid the beholder of Stark blood ever have a spot of acne be present in public, Peter supposed. Still, maybe the man hadn’t even noticed the time himself. 

He was always so busy with his little toys, tinkering around and avoiding human interaction. He didn’t talk to anyone, really, and especially not Perter. In actuality, Peter had never seen the man abandon his work for any one person save for Pepper Potts, who he seemed to be infatuated with. Not that Tony could be blamed, Peter was also head over heels for her. Last year, Pepper even left a birthday present, a crispr kit, for Karen to give him. That had been the only present he received, besides the rubber chicken Karen had gotten him after he forced her to watch the god forsaken vine. 

The boy was nearly positive Tony didn’t even know which day Peter’s birthday was.

Pushing away the thought, Peter continued traveling. He pulled out his phone, panicking for a moment before remembering that he had removed the tracker, and checked his destination once more.

**114 5th Ave. #13, New York, NY, 10011**

Peter had never learned to use a map, as he was always driven around by his chauffeur, but he figured it couldn’t be too hard to use StarkMaps. Same thing, but with technology. Peter could do technology. He was a Stark, after all. Even if that was all he was.

So, he followed the green arrow around, contemplating his trip.

Peter reviewed the private messages on his newfound favorite website, glancing at the picture attatched to the contact, as he smiled slightly at the sight of her face. His frequent conversations with her had made them both nearly fluent in their own little language of youthful love. Or, as she liked to call them, “literally just pms”.

** _“Tomorrow, right?”_ **

** _“Yeah, tmrw. Make sure you come through the window, there’s an alarm at the front.”_ **

** _“You underestimate me, but sure.”_ **

** _“I overestimate you. U ready for this?”_ **

** _“Always.”_ **

Peter smiled as he read them, remembering how excited he had been the night prior. The prospect of their plan wasn’t foolproof, not at all, but it was halfway conceived by the same kid who won a college level spelling bee at the age of six, so, yeah.

Continuing his journey, Peter heard a loud noise boom from the television screens that littered the shop windows. A red glow illuminated them, followed by big, bold letters proclaiming “AMBER ALERT”. He almost walked away, uninterested in what was most likely a kidnapping case. He was busy enough as it was.

And then he saw his own face pop onto the screens.

The tired newscaster began speaking, but Peter couldn’t bother to look away. He was far too petrified. “Attention.” The man began. “There is a new Amber Alert in progress for Peter Benjamin Stark, son of the famed tech giant and current Avenger, Tony Stark.” Of course, even when he was a missing child they couldn’t say his name on its own. “Peter was reported missing three minutes ago, and is believed to be in the midst of a runaway scheme. Theresa, any information?”

The camera panned over to an equally exhausted woman, who smiled beneath her botox and took over. “Yes, Jax, officials have thoroughly searched the boy’s bedroom, and have found a note believed to be in Peter’s handwriting, as well as security footage showing Peter leaving the building at 7:34 this morning with a backpack. Tony Stark is outside Avengers Tower now, as we cut to the live footage.”

The screen switched to a live video of Tony, standing outside the tower, in front of the other avengers, with Pepper by his side. The public had been told that she was “like a mother to him”, so it wasn’t surprising that the woman was getting involved. In the video, Tony was crying slightly. Or, rather, his eyes seemed to have been treated with salt by a SFX guy. Peter knew well enough to doubt that Tony would ever truly cry over him.

The man spoke softly. “If anyone has information as to the whereabouts of my son, Peter, please contact the number on the screen.” Peter scoffed, glaring slightly at the blue light. “All of us are deeply concerned for his safety, especially me. We aren’t sure why he left, but there must have been some misunderstanding. I just want my baby boy to come home safe and sound.”

_Yeah_, Peter thought, _Sure you do._


	5. Hacking Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And there it was, broad as daylight. The clear sign they had needed, as if God Himself had handed them the keys to infinite knowledge about the innermost working of one kid’s runaway plan. Tony stood, reading through the countless messages, before letting out the exact phrase they were all thinking.

Tony had asked for this, hadn’t he?

Always too smart for his own good, he supposed. The paparazzi were going crazy, shouting at him, some with questions, some telling him how sorry they were about Peter’s disappearance. 

The little vultures were annoying, sure, but they served their part in the cycle of the public. He’d understood that, Howard had made sure of it. Peter, well, he was the same idiotic kid that thought he could run away from home, so, needless to say, he’d cried each and every time he saw the paparazzi until he was two and started getting severely punished every time he made the company look bad.

He continued walking back up to the tower, narrowly avoiding the rest of the mystery gang, as he began mentally taking note of the chance that there would be an update on the outcome of the stunt soon, likely coming from one of the employees that had been in the room of the idea’s conception.

He stepped into the elevator, thinking for a moment. He rarely had this time, this time of lonesome pondering and minimal multitasking being demanded of the businessman. Finally, Tony was being granted a chance to consider his grand plan for getting that poor excuse of a son back into his clutches.

Perhaps, he pondered, the kid had left traces. It wasn’t like Peter had the street smarts to completed wipe himself off the face of the earth. No, he had to be on security footage. Somewhere. He had to have made some dumb mistake and gave away his whole plot.

Quickly, the man moved on to the databases, scrounging every crevice for remnants of the coding methods Peter had used in the past. What was his last little scheme? Tony couldn’t remember. He vaguely recalled Karen sending him a monthly report that mentioned... chickens? No, whales. No, bees! Something about Peter working on a coding project that involved some movie about bees.

He was suddenly extremely glad that the PR department demanded he set aside time in his busy schedule in order to read through each of those monthly updates. How else was he supposed to know about what Peter was up to? 

He did not have time to keep thinking, however, as he was cut off by the sound of FRIDAY urgently gaining his attention.

“Boss, Captain Rogers has used his emergency override code, and is bringing the rest of the Avengers down the elevator. He is demanding to speak to you about the late developments concerning Pe-” And, suddenly, the room was being filled with decorated heroes and former-assassins, not a trace of civility to be seen.

“Do you dumbasses think you own this place?” Tony screamed, jarred at the sudden invasion. The team looked him over, almost concerned at his outburst. “You’re all idiots, the whole group of you! Thinking you guys can just waltz in here whenever you want! Can’t you all see I’m busy?”

The staring continued, only evolving as Steve seemed to grow sympathetic towards his partner of field. “Tony, you’re overworking yourself. Let’s think about the ra-” “No!” Tony interjected, laying down the law. It was his tower, and he wasn’t about to let some 100 year old virgin steal it out from underneath him during a moment of stress. The heir to his whole company could be dead, for all they knew!

“Until the kid comes back, I need to make sure all forces are on the lookout.” The genius elaborated, glancing at his inferiors (save for, perhaps, Bruce). “This whole show is riding on him outliving me. That’s the only reason we’ve been through all this shit about his image. We need to-”

“You need to slow down.” Rhodey interrupted, grabbing onto his friend’s shoulders in an attempt to cease the tirade.

“You’re out of it, Tones. I understand that this is upsetting you, but there’s not a single person in this room that isn’t hellbent on getting Peter back here. We’re just... worried. That’s all. You need to chill out and think about this objectively.” The man said, beginning to massage the tense shoulders of his buddy.

Tony inquired, “And what does that mean for me?” “If you calm down? Well, for once, you’ll try to give a shit about that kid’s feelings. You’ll have to. Even if it’s just for the sake of getting a hold of him, you’ll have to try and pay attention.” Rhodey tried. Of course, he was turning the incident into a learning moment. He’d always thought Tony didn’t l-lo-that word- the kid enough, as if he thought the little bastard deserved it. But, Tony supposed, at least someone was on his side.

And then Pepper Potts stormed in.

Followed by Happy, the CEO was pacing with a glaring rage about her, fumes practically spewing out from her bright red ears, her hair amiss from the heat of her flushed out skin.

Her typical calm demeanor was nowhere to be found. It was like staring at a clone, a near perfect copy of the woman he loved, but missing such a key detail that it simply couldn’t be her. An alien, an imposter, a copycat of his gorgeous fiancée that had a one detour in it’s grand plan: yell at Tony Stark. 

She was angry, upset, and confused; however, Tony could spot a glint of worry in her eyes, perfectly matching the glint in Rhodey’s eyes mere moments ago. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but it seemed as so.

“Are you insane?” The woman screamed, tossing a file over to her lover. She had seen Peter last week, as a personal request, for bonding purposes. He wasn’t entirely sure what she had done with the gangly little brat, but the genius could only assume it was sickly maternal. Tony was more than happy to see that she was making an effort to integrate herself into the public image, but he had noticed the signs of her growing attatched to the little monster over time.

Once, she even gave Karen the day off so she could “get to know her future son”. Like, who even did that? What respectable person would willingly spend time around a snot-nosed 13 year old that was destined to send the very sanctity of the whole company into ruins? Clearly, the woman was going mad. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

Tony shrugged lightly. He asked her, “What did I do?” “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you just lost your son and aren’t even acting that upset about it!” She screamed. Tony glared at the woman, questioning if he should have FRIDAY run a test for the symptoms of insanity. “Are you even worried about him, Tony?” She asked.

“Of course I’m worried, Pep.” He tried. “Worried this idiot boy is going to ruin this entire company because of some teenage dream of living in the sewers like a killer clown!”

Pepper tried to speak, but he did not ceasefire. “He’s a no good, fluffy, pathetic little boy scout and he knows it! That’s why the kid did this! Trying to run off and pretend the world isn’t depending on him to lead! He thinks he’s normal, well, he’s not! It’s ridiculous. He doesn’t behave for him nanny, doesn’t listen to orders, hell, he barely even knows how to speak whenever I get forced to take his to those stupid galas!”

“I cannot physically believe you right now.” Pepper sighed, relaxing against Rhodey’s side as she melted into the couch.

“Well, have you tried looking for him?” Steve asked, like the dense old man he was. “Of course I have, Spangles. Got every system I have doing facial recognition on the security cameras. He’s bound to give one of them a good view of that mug sooner or later.”

Thor looked the space over, mumbling to himself about some type of magic, before his eyes went wide with realization. He reached over the table, picking up Tony’s StarkPhone, nearly dropping it from his large hands. “Isn’t the young one in possession of one of these devices?” He prodded. “Of course the kid has a phone.” Tony explained, “He’s got it on him, though. Took the tracker off.” He believed Thor to be too alien to understand, and did his best to dumb it down. But... then Thor explained his own train of thought.

“Did you not build it? Is it not your technology?”

And Tony understood. He understood what was up here. Peter’s StarkPhone might have been far away, but it still existed. It still had hardware. It was still hackable.

Roughly, Tony reached his tanned arm across the table in order to grab his best hacking computer, he had many for this very purpose, and loaded his most trusted software. He typed so fast Steve feared the man’s fingers might fall off, but they remained throughout the process.

Tony was always so diligent, the perfect image of suave manners in a tense situation. But now? Now, he was messy. He was messy, stupid, and vile in the face of his own fear. Wrong code method, wrong string of numbers, he kept slipping up. Tony had never been so shaky before.

His hands slipped, perhaps due to his racing mind and fast breath intake. He was so tense, so tight, so worried, so- god, Rhodey was right. It took so long, nearly twenty minutes, before everything slowly fell into place for him.

The screen lit up, a picture of Peter Benjamin Stark gracing the space behind the apps. He was laying on his bed, showing the camera- Tony had to count- seven chins. It was ridiculous, and made the boy look like an even bigger idiot than he already was, but the man had to admit that it was a sure sign of the patent-pending Stark Self-Deprecating Humor brewing inside of him.

_At least he won’t be a complete disgrace_, Tony thought. They began to scroll through the data, looking through the many photos and mobile games in hopes of finding something worth their time. After what felt like a millennium, but was truly only about twenty-seven minutes, they finally decided to search through Peter’s recent texts.

And there it was, broad as daylight. The clear sign they had needed, as if God Himself had handed them the keys to infinite knowledge about the innermost working of one kid’s runaway plan. Tony stood, reading through the countless messages, before letting out the exact phrase they were all thinking.

“Who the hell is Michelle Jones?”


	6. Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He realized, when granted the opportunity to express himself without the strict jurisdiction of his upbringing, that he did not know how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep! Those! Comments! Coming! Oh my goodness, I love you all. I wrote this in between studying for finals and playing the lead in my school’s madrigals, so it’s a bit quick-paced, but I’m proud. Can’t wait for you guys to see what happens in the next few chapters, though...

Quickening his pace, Peter skipped over the occasional crack in the sidewalk. He had originally been making note of the interesting places he passed by, hoping his host would introduce him to their wonders, but had since given up in the pursuit of something he liked to call “getting the fuck off these busy-ass streets”.

Many had held their gaze towards him, relishing in the thick familiarity of his facial features and chocolate curls, but none had realized who he was as of yet. 

They were so delusional with the age-old class system that they simply could not manage to draw the proper conclusions. They just couldn’t connect the dots. Like many before them, the civilian-folk of New York City had fallen prey to their inability to see Peter Stark for whom he was. They only saw a face.

A face, Peter supposed, was better than an object.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket once more, pulling up the girl’s contact. The glowing face of Michelle Jones stared back at him, smiling wide with a glint on her blackish brown eyes. She had the same eyes that Peter had always imagined his mother to have, although he never saw them for himself (that is, not counting the brief moments he spent in the woman’s arms directly after being born, before being crudely pulled away by the forces of the Stark Industries empire).

MJ, that was her nickname, was beautiful. Not only that, she was charming, intelligent, self-assured, funny, mature, free-spirited, and so many other things. She was perfect. The perfect girl. The boy often wondered how he had ever managed to end up with someone so far out of his league.

They’d only been dating for just under a year, and had both kept the whole situation on the down-low thus far, but she had been adamant on the plan for the entire time.

They’d met on a private social site, one Peter frequented due to it’s obscurity, and, thus, its allowance of freedom. His other social media’s were all heavily corporate, only to be used in ways that suited the image of either himself, Tony, or the godforsaken company. He’d only come across the site by accident, or perhaps a miracle.

MJ’s account was flooded with posts about books, physics, and astrology. Mostly aesthetic things, though. The occasional moodboard and whatnot. Peter especially liked her art. Sketches, paintings, the like. It was in those posts that the girl allowed her personality to truly shine through.

Peter’s had been mostly empty.

He realized, when granted the opportunity to express himself without the strict jurisdiction of his upbringing, that he did not know how. He’d never been able to speak so freely, or act without someone else standing over his shoulder.

But she noticed. She noticed so quickly that he rarely posted, and wasn’t hesitant to act on it. Reading back through those old messgaes lately, Peter would cringe, but then, he had nearly fainted at the prospect of such a perfect human being ever making contact with him.

_ **“Hey, how come u never post? U seem chill. Should join my gc or smth. Have a time. Code is CoolKidz69420.”** _

_ **“I don’t know about that. I’m just a bit timid. What’s your name?”** _

It had been so... so wimpy of him, not knowing how to ask. But she’d gone along with it, which he had since learned was due to her sensing his mysterious air. She could do that sort of stuff... sense people, it was nearly impossible to lie to the girl. She’d called him out on his B.S. a multitude of times, but she did so with a stark contrast to that of his nanny, who often would scold him for lying. Rather, she was in favor of chastising him in a jovial manner, laughing at the boy’s innocence.

Suddenly, his phone pinged, the teenage girl’s face growing larger on the bright screen. She was calling. A gentle smile graced Peter’s lips, turning their edges upward with a joyful quiver. His thoroughly polished teeth shined against the winter sun, as a mist of pale, white carbon dioxide ran throughout the air surrounding his mouth.

_“Hey, buddy. You on your way?”_

“Yeah, yeah. On my way. I’m at... uh... a sandwich place? I’m not sure.” 

He really wasn’t. The streets were an unfamiliar place. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he was still in Manhattan. Where did the boroughs separate? He couldn’t remember.

_“Well, at least I know you followed through with the plan. News is definitely talking, not to mention the entire internet. Some of ‘em think you ran away to escape the illuminati, since we all know SI is part of that, others are saying you got kidnapped.”_

“Kidnapped? Are you kidding me?” Peter laughed.

_“Well, it isn’t everyday the son of a three-time Sexiest Man Alive winner disappears. As far as they know, there was absolutely no reason for you to blow.”_

The boy couldn’t refuse her logic. He had... blown. But, still, it was for good reason. In due time, they’d learn. In due time.

“Yeah... I guess.”

Moments passed, only the deep breaths of his everything could be heard through the speaker.

_“Here, I’ll wait by the door. Text me when you get here.”_

“Alright, babe. Love you.”

_“Love you too, Pete.”_

It was... romantic, in a sense. Their small, infantile love had grown so quickly they could barely end a call without proclaiming it. As if one of them would forget. When she spoke, he felt warm, as if it was all going to work out in the end. He was so happy with her.

Peter had never felt like that before.

Rounding the corner, the young man noticed his destination on the horizon. The aged, brick building stood in unity with the many others surrounding it. It was nothing special, not to the mass of normal people who strode by, nor realizing whom it was they were passing. To him, though, it was everything.

It was hope, peace, a sense of everything he’d ever wanted. A symbol of Peter’s own triumph, the small apartment complex stood tall amongst the surrounding frames. He knew what waited inside for him as he slowly allowed his pristine converse to move closer to the door.

Ducking his head into his chest, Peter dodged the wary cameras of the lobby. He’d never seen a place so... so... normal. Not lined with gold motifs and expensive art, not plastered with logos and “family” portraits, not suppressing, not forced, not rich. Just... normal.

He liked normal.

Finally, he pulled out his phone and sent a simple “I’m here.” as he entered the elevator. The pull of gravity intensified, but did not suffocate. He couldn’t feel his own hands as they shook, only focusing on the glee of the moment. Walking down the hall, he came to apartment #479C, and knocked. The door slid open, slowly at first, until he was met with the most beautiful face in the world, accompanied by a voice so fitting, he couldn’t fathom how he had ever managed to only hear it through a speaker.

“Hey, Peter.”


	7. Law Of The Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelle Irene Jones, born April 16th of 2001, resident of 114 5th Ave. #13, severely allergic to cranberries, 67 active social media accounts, etcetera, etcetera. She was a cute girl, although Tony wasn’t particularly one to lust after teenagers. 
> 
> He was perfect, wasn’t he? Always so thoughtful about the younger generations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I haven’t posted a chapter since last year. Ok, ok, bad joke, I know. As always, comments and kudos really help encourage me to write... so if you want the next chapter ASAP, you know what to do ;). Love you all!!!

Tony was, rightfully so, appalled.

Thousands upon thousands of texts laid before him, printed out for the records and splayed uniformly across the pristine, white wall. Each of the texts off of the messages app was it’s own sin, it’s own crime being blown about as Peter Benjamin Stark, heir to a multi-million dollar dynasty founded on genius, made every rookie mistake in the books.

_ **You know what i wanna do one day?** _

_ **What?** _

_ **Meet you in person, Stark.** _

Of course the kid had been figured out. Little shit had barely even tried to conceal his identity. He was sloppy, and in doing so he let some random civilian girl get under his skin and woo him into another dimension.

Speaking of the succubus in question, they had thoroughly tracked the IP address back, and scrounged through the available information on her. 

Michelle Irene Jones, born April 16th of 2001, resident of 114 5th Ave. #13, severely allergic to cranberries, 67 active social media accounts, etcetera, etcetera. She was a cute girl, although Tony wasn’t particularly one to lust after teenagers. 

He was perfect, wasn’t he? Always so thoughtful about the younger generations.

He just couldn’t fathom one detail. How did Peter fall for it? Clearly she was... plotting something. Convincing the boy to run away and take refuge in an unfamiliar area was enough to clarify that to him. No, she was a villain. 

The little bitch had stolen a priceless piece of the Stark legacy. If they didn’t get Peter back soon, there was no telling what she might do to him. What Peter might spill... Tony wouldn’t put it past the kid to spread out company secrets in the heat of the moment. He was expected to have known better, but the boy simply couldn’t be trusted. He was still so weak, they couldn’t have him be away.

They’d need to take the girl in for questioning once they got in, no doubt. She had some explaining to do. To the team, to Pepper, to the PR squad, to God, to everyone it mattered to. 

“Tony, we need to think rationally.” Steve reminded, trying to step in front of the man as he stormed down the hall. The lawyers were waiting for him, preparing everything they could. Kidnapping charges? Sure, why not. Anything to get the kid back where he needed to be for the sake of the company.

“I’ve been thinking rationally, Rogers. Grab your buddy and prepare to rip this little rendezvous apart. Maybe the double super soldier action will knock some sense into the kid about how serious I am.” 

At that, Bucky’s ears perked. “Who said I was getting involved? I’ve maybe met Peter twice, both of which ended with him being dragged outta the room by that nanny of his. What makes ya think I owe you anything?” Tony smirked back a response. “Simple, dark-haired Steve, I got you out of going to the raft. Now, you can man up a tad bit and get this little shit back where he belongs.”

Bucky groaned, leaning against the wall as he ceased his pacing. He was tired, but Tony was just waking up.

He stormed into the legal office, being met by a hoard of faces he recognized all too well. “Alright, thank you Mr. Stark-” one began. “Please, call me Tony. I’m in a mood.” Tony interrupted. The man resigned, “Fair enough.” Soon, the room was overflown with silence. A stray, lingering feeling of the elephant in the room. Tony could tell something was up.

Finally, one lone ranger spoke up. “Forgive me, but this may take a second. As of right now, we have the girl for a few charges. Nothing is up to your ambition, I’m sure, but we cannot- I repeat- cannot try and put a 15 year old on trial for kidnapping. PR would kill us, and we’d lose the whole case.”

“What?” Tony gasped, shocked by the admission.

Sure enough, there were only six charges on the final list. He was annoyed, bitter, and angry, but he knew better than to cause a fuss. The man sighed, running a hand through his grease-laden hair. At least they’d be giving the kid a good lesson about how serious this whole situation was. Peter would probably cry, throw some tantrum about love or whatever, but Tony knew better.

Michelle Jones was a villain of the people, a crazy “normal” citizen attempting to ruin everything they had built. Peter was to be a monument once he was finished with his highly perfected initial upbringing, and now that monument had a small crack in its foundation. When he turned 18, (in like, what, 8 years?), he was meant to be officially signed on as the sole heir to the Stark fortune, much to Pepper’s behest. Peter was meant to accept the power that came with his family name, but, instead, he was abandoning it.

That girl was ruining everything.

Tony wandered back out from the legal office, holding and releasing his breath in rapid intervals, trying to calm himself. Bruce tried to grab his arm, but couldn’t get his attention in the fury-driven fit of rage the man was in. Rhodey tried too, but only proved similar.

He stormed through the chic modern halls, allowing his emotions to overtake him. There, along one of the main walls, the messages were laid out, each a new horrifying tactic of manipulation.

_ **You ever wanted to run away?** _

_ **I’m not sure. I’ve never really been in the outside world. I wouldn’t hold up very well out there.** _

_ **How can you know for sure if you don’t try, hot shot?** _

_ **You sound like Karen.** _

_Well, kid_, Tony thought, _you’re gonna get to hear Karen a lot more when you’re physically restrained to your floor in about twelve hours._


	8. Young Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thump.
> 
> Thump.
> 
> Thump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... pretty long for me. I don’t even know how I wrote this. Apparently I like writing fluffy romance. Anyway, I have a new story! It’s called “Stuck With A Spiderling” and draws some concepts from this story, especially in the character study, and that will start to come into play and it gets into the second chapter, so check that out if you’d like! I’m very proud of the next chapter for that story, so I hope a lot of people will be able to read it. As always, comments and kudos fuel my soul. I love you all!

“What kind of food do you have in here?” Peter asked, shuffling around the kitchen as he pointed to the cabinets. In reality, he was filling the space to keep his mouth from running off and commenting on how the kitchen on his floor was five times the size of her whole apartment.

He didn’t want to be rude, really, it was just those little observations that were eating away at him. He’d grown used to the high-class society he was raised in, and the sudden switch in environment was confusing his brain into a fuss. Still, the one genre of etiquette lesson he could always get behind were the ones on politeness.

He simply wasn’t a monster, like some people.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” MJ said, shrugging her shoulders. “We used to have pop tarts and stuff in the far left cabinet, a couple of those discount bags of assorted chips, and maybe a Hostess snack or two, but most of the food is in the pantry now.”

“Oh.” Peter said, biting back the urge to ask her what all of those things were. He didn’t want to sound like a classic rich-kid, although that was precisely what he was. 

“And your parents are...?” He looked over to MJ, tilting his jagged left eyebrow. “They’re on a business trip until May. We have plenty of time. Of course, I’ll be starting back at school in a week, but you can entertain yourself, I’m sure.” 

Peter smiled, “I’m fifteen, not five.” And she smiled right on back.

“If you want,” the girl tried, “I can show you the guest room. I’ve gotten it all decked out with emergency stuff in case we need to make a break for it, but I doubt we’ll need it. Still, I should probably show you where it is.”

Peter nodded, and followed her out of the kitchen, into a room with a dark, wooden door. When they went inside its cavern, Peter was greeted by something so pleasant, so comfortable, so _normal_ (he was really liking that word) that he couldn’t bare to look away.

A single window, with the grey curtains drawn, a queen sized bed with white sheets and a navy comforter, a wooden rocking chair in the corner, and a clean dresser were all immaculately placed, collecting no dust as they laid in perfect harmony with one another.

“There’s a pillowcase under there.” MJ said, gesturing beneath the bed to where a small opening could be seen beneath the skirt. “It’s got whatever we need if someone tries to take you.”

Peter smiled, grasping his girlfriend’s hand as he hugged her tightly, allowing the gentle thank you to be understood without being heard.

Jokingly, MJ grabbed his arm in retaliation, before launching him over and onto the bed. She followed him over, as they lied next to one another and stared longingly into each other’s eyes.

Peter reached over, running a pale hand across her contrasting face, allowing his thumb to take rest on her cheek, where a small scar resided. He remembered hearing about it over private message, how she had once crashed into a wall and had to be taken to the ER. It was so much better to see it for himself, though. Just like those gorgeous brown orbs that shifted in the light the longer he stared.

“You’re eyes are even prettier in person.” He said.

MJ chuckled, tucking a piece of her windy hair behind her ear. “You’re an even bigger dork in person, so we’re even.” She said. Peter smiled, reaching across the woven landscape to grasp her hand. “I’ve never sat this close to someone who wasn’t paid to spend time with me.”

“Really?” MJ asked, her girlish smile now fading as her eyes turned sorrowful. “Well, yes and no.” Peter said, more seriously. “My nanny, Karen, of course. She’s paid quite a bit, not enough in her opinion. I guess you have some of the team that tries to interact with me, and Pepper’s always been a bit on the nice side with me, but I think she’s just trying to placate me. Tony’s certainly never been this affectionate, though.”

MJ huffed a little, scooting closer to him as she locked her eyes in a position of calming. Staring at the boy, Peter saw her smile return to her, forcing itself into the room like an atom bomb, completely and entirely destroying all of the negative air. 

She leaned close, and Peter relished in the moment as he tucked his arm over her shoulder, allowing them to be one for a moment, until they could hear one another’s hearts slowly beating to the speed of the wind.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Peter smiled, contorting his body until he was practically laying in his girlfriend’s arms, his own arms tightening around the girl as he listened to her breath flow. In and out it went, as her heart beat with it in a melody of life and health.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Have you ever wondered,” Peter asked, “if you’re even capable of love?” His eyes welled up with tears, not falling as of yet, but threatening to form tirades down his cheeks.

  
“I love you.” MJ promised, her own eyes copying. “Besides that!” He laughed through the tears. MJ laughed as well, her shoulders shaking through the sorrow. “I don’t know.” She said. “I’ll have to think on it.”

“Well,” Peter began, “I have. I’ve had times where I’ve believed that I would never be capable of love outside of this- this- this amazing, beautiful love that we have.” His hand trembled in hers, as the tears freed themselves from his tear ducts. 

“We’re young, I know, but- but I love you. I want you to know that, MJ, I love you. I’ve never been sure of anything more than that.” Peter cried.

“Oh my god.” MJ braced, collapsing into Peter’s arms so that they were each the only thing keeping their partner upright. She smiled, gazing into his chocolate brown eyes as they reflected her face in real-time. Not a video call, not a selfie, but the real deal. Him.

Her everything.

“You act like you’re so normal.” She said, aghast. “It’s like I’m not even talking to... you know.” “What?” He asked, slightly cocky. “A dashingly handsome future billionaire?”

“No, that’s a lot closer to normal than what I was referring to.” She grasped his wrists, tilting an eyebrow. “You know what I mean.” “Ohhhhh.” He said, catching her drift. They’d only talked about that a few times, but she was more than familiar enough with his... other details.

“Come on.” MJ beckoned, standing from the bed and quickly pulling Peter up with her. “Let’s watch the news scream about you being dead”

Laughing, Peter followed her into the living room where the girl grabbed a remote and turned the TV on in a quick, practiced motion. _Right_, Peter reminded himself, _normal people don’t have voice control on they’re fucking toasters_.

“-ny Stark, of course, announced this morning that an Amber Alert was being sent out for his son, Peter Stark. The news is shaking the country, and theories are already being spun as to where the future heir to America’s largest tech conglomerate, Stark Industries, has gone. Now, Jamie, what exactly do we know about this case so far?” The two teenagers chuckled, looking onto the screen as the anchors listed off theories, basking in the quiet and the calm.

And then they heard it, booming from outside the front door of the apartment, loud and clear as the stars in the woodland sky of the painting MJ once crashed her face into.

“NYPD! Open up!”

MJ ran without making sound, going straight to the guest room as she eyed Peter with a glint of scheming. She mouthed out “pillowcase”, as his eyes widened in realization.

Oh.

Following, he dived in the guest room, grabbing the navy cloth after assisting the girl onto the fire escape. He jumped out after her, only to hear the echoing sounds of the police bashing in the door behind them. “Where are we going?” He asked, as they travelled through twists and turns behind the building.

And MJ smirked, glancing back to him. “I have a friend.”


	9. I Turned Out Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It happens with kids all the time, he could be anywhere. Betcha Peter’ll be back come morning.” Happy urged, trying to calm his boss’s screaming. “He’s probably just at a party or something. The girl probably just wanted to show him around.”
> 
> “Or he’s dead.” Tony added, tutting as he scrubbed through the security camera footage once more. 
> 
> “You sure that isn’t what you wanted?”
> 
> “What?” Tony asked, looking towards his friend with confusion written all over his face. Happy looked back at him, shrugging as he mumbled out his response.
> 
> “For him to be dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the summary quote! Minorly edited because I had to keep spoilers hidden. So happy with how you guys felt about the last chapter. You know what you guys do to me, haha. Once more, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! You’ve all been really helping me push the story to this point, and it’s only going to get better from here. The plot’s got a ways to go, but we’re approaching the good stuff. Love y’all!

Tony sat, listening through the police wires as the groups of men swarmed around the front of Michelle Jones’ apartment. Normally, he would have questioned the gender diversity, but thought better of it consider that they were doing his dirty work for him.

“NYPD! Open up!”

God, these people are incompetent, Tony thought, just go in already. But, his prayers were not to he answered as he heard them wait for a response. God, what kind of dumbasses is the state hiring these days?

Finally, the silence from the other side of the door was noticed, and the sound of wood being crashed down filled the room. The world appeared to slow down as he waited for the holistic sounds of children being dragged by their necklines into police vans.

No such sound came.

Instead, he listened to the confused murmurs of officers as they searched for their bounty, only for one voice to carry through. “The window is open.”, it said, “They’re long gone by now.”

God, this was what he deserved for not dragging the soldiers out there, whether they fought tooth and nail or not. 

Suddenly, the barren scilence of the room halted, instead being replaced by an all too familiar sound.

Steps sounded from down the hallway, the loud CLICK CLACK of dress shoes banging against the linoleum and concrete of the polished flooring tiles.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

Tony breathed in, basking in his final moments of peace as he waited for his guest to enter. He could recognize the footstep pattern of a certain Harold Hogan anywhere.

The lab doors swung open, as a nearly human voice sounded from above, Irish accent and all “Happy Hogan has arrived in the laboratory, boss.” Great fucking timing, FRIDAY, Tony thought.

“What are you needing, Hap?” He asked, looking the man over. All seemed to be in order, save for a conspicuous piece of white paper, folded neatly and placed into Happy’s breast pocket in place of a handkerchief (or ID card). “Oh, not much. Just figured I should come down and see how you’re holding up.” He tried, tremendously failing at his lie.

“Okay...” Tony led looking unimpressed, “And?”.

Then, Happy took a seat, his face losing it’s characteristic flavor, and instead seeming as if it was grey. Devoid of color, life, and innocence. This was not the Happy he knew, this man meant business. “You know Rhodes has been freaking out. We all understand you’re upset about Peter, but Bucky mentioned you were trying to send him and Steve in to take force.”

“What about it?” Tony asked, shrugging his masculine shoulders in annoyance. Since when was any of this Happy’s business? The man in question sighed, and relocked his strict eye contact, with a touch more emotion lingering behind the gaze. _Pity_. Tony hated pity.

So, he snapped.

Remaining in his seated position, Tony yelled in retort “Since when are you involved in family affairs? Who gave you the right, huh? The sole heir to my entire company is missing and you think you can just stumble on in here and take control, do you? Take me while I’m down? This is your fault, Hogan! You’re the head of security!”

“It happens with kids all the time, he could be anywhere. Betcha Peter’ll be back come morning.” Happy urged, trying to calm his boss’s screaming. “He’s probably just at a party or something. The girl probably just wanted to show him around.”

“Or he’s dead.” Tony added, tutting as he scrubbed through the security camera footage once more. 

“You sure that isn’t what you wanted?”

“What?” Tony asked, looking towards his friend with confusion written all over his face. Happy looked back at him, shrugging as he mumbled out his response.

“For him to be dead.”

“That’s sick.” Tony said, glaring. He didn’t want the boy dead, he couldn’t. Peter was important to the company, a necessary evil that he simply had to tolerate. He knew that.

“Well, I’ve spent a lot of time around that kid since he was born. Remember the time he snuck into the blue Audi so he could follow you to work? He worshipped you back then.” Happy smiled at the thought of his words, remembering the little toddler-aged boy in red footie pajamas that had appeared in the passenger seat one brisk summer morning.

“What about it? All kids-” Tony tried, but was quickly interrupted by a sharp hand lifting a finger to his lips. “I’ve done some research.” Happy said. The man pulled out the sheet of parchment paper, emblazoned with the Stark Industries logo, and Tony could see that it was absolutely covered in pen.

“You know how many kids his age run away from home each year? **2.2 million**. 70% of them felt like they were unsafe in their home. 5,000 of those kids die before their parents can step in. Are you hearing those odds? Not to mention that 32% of those deaths are... yeah.”

Happy looked back up from the paper. “He planned this. He turned to some girl he’d never met in person and saw her as a way out. Kids might be lovesick but this was going to happen either way. He found someone who cares enough about him to get him as far away from here as possible. You know why?”

Tony gulped, shaking his head slightly as he felt slight grief over the whole situation. Happy looked him right in the eye, and said “In the time Peter’s spent in this world, he’s never gotten a hug.”

No. No, that wasn’t right. Tony was sure someone had hugged the kid. Didn’t... no, Pepper said she wasn’t comfortable yet. But the... Karen wasn’t required to build a relationship, just to keep Peter alive. And... what about... hadn’t _he_... no. 

No matter how many times Tony scrubbed the inner depths of his memory, he had no recollection of hugging his own son.

“Why would that make him run away?” He asked, “My old man never hugged me, I turned out fine. Stark men are made of iron, and so should be the kid. He’s been getting built up for that. I know he’s all fluff, trust me the tutors have complained more than enough, but it can’t be _that_ bad. He’s... he’s fine.”

“Tony.” Happy began, “Your mother hugged you. His mother’s dead. All he has is you. Bad fathers may not kill a man, but-” “I’m not a bad father.” “You sure as hell are, and you should start to acknowledge it.”

Tony stared on, his own eyes growing harsh as his glare resumed. He had a right to be pissed. What did Happy know, anyway? He didn’t know the kid. He hadn’t spent hours reading updates from the nanny on his every move. What gave him the authority to tell Tony what to do?

“Please, boss.” He gave one last plea, his face completely dropping in regret. “I should have gotten on you about this year’s ago. Peter hasn’t called you “Dad” in private since he was six. Six. Think about what that says about you.”

And like that, Happy was gone. Vanished into the ether as if he’d never even been there. As if his words hadn’t assaulted the very man who employed him with harshness and vulgarity.

But, Tony wasn’t alone for long. 

In a harsh manner, the doors to the lab were swung open once more. This time, manually. There was no time for FRIDAY to introduce the unwelcome visitor, as his fiancée was miles ahead already.

“Steve said something was going on with you, honey. Are you okay?” She asked. “I’m fine,” he insisted “Speaking of Steve, what’s with him? He’s so tight lately. Ol’ Stars and Stripes used to take any mission with open arms.”

“What did you ask him to do, honey?” Pepper questioned, her face growing concerned under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the private lab. “Oh,” Tony said, realizing she hadn’t been made aware of the situation as of yet. The more he thought about it, had he told Rhodey? Eh, he’d be fine with it. Rhodey bear always saw the right side of things. “I was hoping him and his playmate could play child wranglers on their own, but they wouldn’t do it. Had to send in the NYPD instead.”

“Tony!”

“What?” The man asked, sighing at the woman’s persistence. “You are not telling me you sent the cops on a child!” She screamed, gripping her hair in both hands. “So what if I did? Doesn’t make much of a difference, we have two toddlers on the run now. NYPD is a bunch of incompetent assholes. If Steve and Bucky had gone-” 

“You’re lucky they didn’t!” Pepper interrupted, “Steve came to me saying you were doing something drastic and I come down here to find out you’re doing... whatever the hell this is! It’s mental! God, I’ve never even seen you _try_ and give that boy affection. I though you were just distant, but, god, I should have known this was how you were treating him. You can’t solve everything by throwing money at it and letting other people do the hard work for you! This is your child!” Tony tuned her out, adjusting his position at the desk.

He wasn’t a bad father. He wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. “Rolllllll Credits!”


	10. A Tisket, A Tasket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The PR team had wanted to push his latest number of 163. It was much better than his previous 148, but still not anywhere near where they wanted it. Once the boy would be old enough to take over, it was a necessity that he’d have reached 229, beating out Marilyn vos Savant for the world record. 
> 
> After all, what was he if not a means to an end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry for the delay on this chapter!! Please forgive me, guys, things got really hectic all of a sudden and I haven’t had time to write. This chapter is longer than usual to make up for it. Once more, comments and kudos are super encouraging, and I love seeing your guys’ reactions!

“Where are we, again?”

“Queens. I told you.” MJ said, dragging her boyfriend along through the back alleys They’d already taken a bus to the other borough, which was an experience in of itself. Peter hadn’t realized how annoying public transport could be. People sucked. Still, it was much more thrilling than letting Happy chauffeur him around.

“Yeah,” Peter said, “and where are we going?” MJ groaned, but laughed at the boy’s curiosity. “I have a friend that’s parents aren’t home. He’s from school. You’ll like him, I promise. Big nerd. Can probably introduce you to some hobbies, big guy.”

Peter giggled, pleased with her teasing. MJ turned a quick corner, pulling him along, and dodged a security camera to enter a dull looking apartment building. It was fairly empty, but Peter kept his head down just in case.

They made their way up a few levels on the elevator, a loud, clangy one, and filed in front of a door. “He might be a bit excited to see you, so keep yo-” “Keep my cool. Yeah, you’ve taught me that one, babe. I’ll be nice.”

MJ knocked once, twice, three times, and leaned back as her posture adjusted itself. Peter heard footsteps arriving from a distant room, wandering through the vast quiet of the apartment. Breathing. The door slowly opened, revealing the face of a heavy-set, Hawaiian boy. The kid smiled, looking at MJ, and began to open his mouth, when his eyes made contact with Peter.

And then his eyes rolled back in his head.

As the nameless boy fell backwards, collapsing into a pile on the floor, Peter sighed gently. In his defense, he hadn’t exactly expected the fellow kid to pass out.

In all honesty, he had sort of begun to forget who he was... what he was. He forgot that people like him weren’t allowed to show up at a stranger’s door asking to be let it. He forgot how much explaining he’d have to do for himself. He forgot that him and MJ weren’t just your average teenage lovebirds, strolling through town. Hell, he’d nearly forgotten that he was on the run from the state police force.

But, there lay the boy. On the ground. Hopefully not dead. 

“Ned!” MJ shouted, rushing over and using her brute strength to lift the sleeping boy, “Help me out, Pete. Let’s take him to the couch.”

Now, Peter wasn’t so sure about how comfortable he felt with stepping into someone else’s apartment uninvited. _Maybe this is something normal kids do_, he thought, _maybe that’s just the etiquette classes talking_.

Entering, Peter pondered this plight, questioning the validity of his teachings, when he managed to lock eyes with MJ once more. Seconds passed, then minutes followed, one after the other in a desperate tango to hold onto the other’s gaze. MJ’s smile then was unlike anything Peter had ever seen. Perhaps on television, or the internet. 

She looked so happy, yet so mischievous. As if this was all the funniest joke ever told for all of mankind.

Peter dared to call it attractive.

They sat there for a moment, just staring at eachother, when Peter suddenly heard a groan from beneath them. There, on the couch, the boy from before- Ned, MJ had called him, was slowly beginning to wake up. His eyes peeled open gently, taking a moment to adjust to the light, beforw he caught sight of Peter once more.

“Y-you’re...” Ned began, struggling to speak as he assessed the situation. Peter couldn’t blame him, the kid had probably seen his face on television more times than he could count with his shoes off. “Yeah, Peter Stark, we know, welcome to the party.” MJ said, slapping Ned on his shoulder to wake him from the trance of starstrike.

“You don’t have to be so mean about it, MJ.” Peter tried. He’d met fans before, and had been extensively taught the art of pleasing others, so seeing her so lax about the situation felt a tad bit unorthodox. Politely, Peter reached his hand out for Ned to take. “Peter Stark, and you are...?”

Of course, Peter had already inferred Ned’s name from the allotted context clues, but he felt it showed a better principle to ask, as his tutors said that it made people uncomfortable when you knew something about them that they hadn’t told you themself.

The boy shivered, his face saying all as his eyes were left wide, mouth agape in shock. “Um... uh... Ned. Ned Leeds, Mr. Peter Stark, sir.” “Oh, no, just call me Peter, please.” Peter smiled, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ned.”

MJ interjected the conversation, seemingly annoyed that they had yet to get to the point. She said, “Your parents are with Leila for that soccer thing, right?” to which Ned responded, “Yeah, what about it?” “Well, we’re gonna stay here for a little while.”

“WHAT?” Ned leaped from his spot on the couch, grabbing MJ by the arm and pulling her with him as they wandered off to the neighboring hallway. They were out of earshot of Peter, except they weren’t. Nobody was.

Ned was whispering, sounding like screaming to Peter, when he said, “My apartment is not made for a celebrity, MJ. Where did he even come from? Isn’t he kidnapped or, like, on the run from the illuminati right now. Wait, did you kidnap him? MJ am I going to be arrested, I’m too young to d-” “Hold it, Leeds.” MJ interrupted.

“Peter and I are dating. We’ve been dating for a while now. He wants to be here, nobody kidnapped him. I don’t even think the illuminati had begun his indoctrination, so he’s clear. It’s just, Peter’s dad is a giant dick, and this was the only way for him to escape. We need to hide him for a while, that’s all. You caught up to speed?”

“No! What do you mean his d-” Peter chose to tune out of the noise, instead focusing on a large woven basket he found next to a royal blue armchair. It was filled with old newspapers and magazines, the boy could only wonder why they were needed anymore. Back home, they threw everything they were done with into the incinerator.

Shuffling through the basket, Peter’s eyes were graced by something all too familiar. His own face. Stopping the movement, he pulled out the offending material, looking it over. A 2011 edition of TIME magazine, where a picture of him in one of his more photogenic blazers from the time filled the cover. Next to it was bold lettering, proudly declaring “Peter Stark takes the world by storm with his latest IQ estimate”.

God, he remembered that shoot. In fact, he remembered that whole story. It had been a personal nightmare. 

The PR team had wanted to push his latest number of 163. It was much better than his previous 148, but still not anywhere near where they wanted it. Once the boy would be old enough to take over, it was a necessity that he’d have reached 229, beating out Marilyn vos Savant for the world record. 

After all, what was he if not a means to an end?

Still, the public didn’t need to know that. He was a little boy with an IQ higher than Einstein, and that’s what they’d focus on. And they did. 

The nice people at TIME had sent one of the reporters that had more experience with children to interview him for it, but his answers to the questions were all scripted anyway, so they might as well have just asked the PR team.

The dulled footsteps returned, and slowly bit surely grew louder in volume, deafening Peter’s poor ears.

“Okay, we’re back!” MJ said, regaining her beloved’s attention for the moment, “Ned’s all filled in, so we should be good to stay here for the time being.” “Great.” Peter agreed, smiling back.

“Welcome to the party, Ned.”


	11. Repentance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is, as always, @badmcuposts, so if you want updates on this story, come give me a visit! And, as I’ve said time and time before, comments and kudos are soooo much help when i’m writing! They really motivate me!

_Holy shit._

Tony had been waiting for long enough that the sun had risen, filling the confines of Peter’s personal floor with a deep, orange glow that illuminated through the plain, white window curtains. Like a lovely summer morning, only dimmed by the everlasting weight of the winter chill.

He’d never noticed how barren the floor was, only decorated by a few painting he vaguely remembered buying back in 2001. Of course, he had stopped by the floor a few times whilst hauling the kid into the elevator for countless events, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d really taken a look at it.

The small kitchen counter in the corner of the living space was clean, scrubbed last by the nanny before she took off for her family emergency. Next to it was a sleek, dark oak door, which led to the kid’s bedroom. Tony hadn’t dared to enter that area yet, not wishing to sit on the thoughts and memories of finding it empty only a few days ago.

Its looming figure haunted his peripheral vision, taunting him with its secrets. Not secrets of Peter’s, he was sure. The yellow evidence markers littering the floor were proof enough that the detectives and cops had done their job. No, Tony’s secrets.

Something was bothering him, something Happy had said. He had hastily thought through his memories of those important years, trying his best to exclude the ones he knew were too corporate and commercial to be genuine. He’d come down to a core five, a select few that he felt purely told the story of him and the kid.

Images floated through his head of a little boy in red pajamas clinging to his leg, asking to be picked up. He vaguely remembered walking away. There was a few flashes of a distressed preteen running from him when he tried to give Peter a new Rolex, a consolation following a particularly bad PR day for the company. 

He recalled Peter as a small child, holding his nanny’s hand as he was walked back from the limousine he’d taken home from his first day of... kindergarten, was it? There was a kid, bright-eyed and excitable as he shook hands with the Avengers, greeting them all as they moved into the tower. 

He’d been _so excited_ that day.

That was contrary to the memories of the day he’d come back from Afghanistan. He remembered Pepper being there, ever so happy at his return. In the distant part of his mind, he had wondered why his son wasn’t present. Anymore, he could only suppose he’d earned that.

The memories faded, and became no more than distant feelings in his mind. Soon, too soon, those feelings were replaced with bright and colorful memories of a young woman, clad in nothing more than a seductively tight black dress.

She had been singing that night. Singing to herself. Her voice was what had caught his attention, the beauty and deliquesce of its sound had seemed to remind him of his mother. The italian had flown from her lips so gently, too. Like an angel had come down from heaven purely to sing for him.

_Caro mio ben  
Credimi almen  
Senza di ti  
Languishe il core  
il tuo fedel  
So spira ognor  
Cesa crudel  
Tanto rigor  
caro mio ben  
Credimi almen  
Senza di ti  
Languish il core _

The more he remembered the song, the more he remembered her. She’d been so... different. Not a prostitute or gold digger, but a fine woman who was simply too captivating for Tony to keep his hands away.

Her name was _Mary_. Mary Fitzpatrick. She’d been the most beautiful woman Tony had seen that decade, as if his most pure of dreams had been transfixed into one human. She was almost as perfect as Pepper. 

She had been on the pill, she’d said so herself. But fate works in strange ways, he supposed. They’d dated for a few weeks before it all went to shit. 

That day that she called him with the news, three positive pregnancy tests after losing her lunch in an Oscorp bathroom, he’d panicked. He’d panicked so much that he pushed her away, claimed she was a slut and the baby couldn’t be his.

In the days following the news, he’d made the decision not to go through with his original plans to marry her. Now, he was happy for it, for leaving himself available so he could meet Pepper. At the time, he’d hated himself for ever loving her in the first place.

And then Peter came, the most frightening being he’d ever seen wrapped up into such a small body. Like a doll. A little, tiny doll that he wasn’t prepared to hold and trust when it is said that he’d begged the woman not to make him hold it. Him. 

_“Tony, you’ve seen all the tests you need to see. Why won’t you just accept it? It was an accident. This isn’t Peter’s fault!”_

_“I didn’t ask for this! You knew I never wanted a kid. You knew, Mary! Kids are dangerous, they’re unpredictable, they’re a goddamn liability and I won’t stand to have one in my life! What do you think is going to happen to a kid in this lifestyle? He’ll be dead before his third birthday!”_

_“You don’t know that! He has your eyes, don’t you see them? You can’t push him away just because you’re scared!”_

_“I’m not scared!”_

Perhaps, if PR had let him, Peter would have lived his life in some small suburb, far, far away from Tony Stark and all his drama. Maybe Mary would still be alive, maybe the cancer wouldn’t have spread so fast. Maybe the third time he saw his son wouldn’t have been when the boy was being escorted to a funeral... without him.

This was all his fault.

Tony Stark walked forward, braving the distance between himself and the door. Upon entering, he laid eyes on his lovely fiancée, running a tender hand through her red locks.

She turned to him, minor leagues of shock dancing across her tear-ridden face, only replaced when she noted the mournful glint in his eyes. “You know he won’t forgive you, right?” Pepper asked, quirking her eyebrow in curiosity. Tony quickly jumped to his own response. “Yeah, I don’t much care.”

_He’ll forgive me_, he thought, _he has to_.


	12. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl came leaned in closer to him, wrapping her gentle arms around his body in a short hug, so quick he might have missed the feeling. As she pulled away, removing her gentle warmth from his body, her voice emerged from the catacombs of the room. “What was it about?” MJ asked, and even without seeing it, Peter could tell that her face looked fit for an interrogator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: The following chapter contains a nightmare/flashback sequence at the beginning that has implied mentions of r*pe, bullying, assault, sexual assault, eugenic ideology, and elitism. It has been placed italics for both readability and to give those who may be triggered the option to skip. Please stay safe.

_“You’re a disgrace, you pathetic little piece of shit!”_

_“God, who even made the stupid decision not to abort you? You can’t even take a little punch. We all know your old man could take ‘em.”_

_“Poor, puny Stark, where’s Daddy now?”_

_“I wonder how many times your nose can be rammed against a brick wall before it starts to crack. One way to find out, isn’t there? Better brace yourself.”_

“Peter!”

_“Yeah, go running back to that little princess tower of yours, why don’t you? I bet your animal sidekick needs feeding. Gonna sing a little song? That’s what I fucking thought.”_

_“You deserve this, you know that?”_

_“Everyone hates you for a reason, you’re less valuable than the dirt on my shoe.”_

_“Fucking commoner, think you can come in her with half of our blood and play with the big dogs?”_

_“Get a life, dipshit!”_

_“My mom and dad are going to burn your family’s company to the ground, you hear that?”_

_“Stop sparing his skinny ass! Fellas, come on!”_

_“The Stark fortune ends with you, you got that, you mistake?”_

_“Little late to the party, aren’t you, you pathetic little mule?”_

“Peter!”

_“Stay still, this video is gonna be so much hotter if you’re docile. Leo, hold him down. Prentiss, do me a favor and grab his ankles.”_

_“Nobody fucking loves you, Rapunzel.”_

_“Aw, it’s okay, baby. You wanna cry?”_

_“Shut up! Don’t you know when to be quiet, Stark? Nobody wants to hear your wimpy little voice.”_

_“What? You think being smart is so important, don’t you, hot stuff? Well, I think you better answer to my fist about that!”_

_“No wonder nobody fucking loves you.”_

“Peter!”

The boy shot up in the guest bed he and MJ had been sharing. His face was dripping, the bed completely soaked by his sweat. MJ was there, her hand resting on his shoulder from where she had shaken him awake.

His girlfriend was staring, mouth agape in a strange mixture of shock and fear. Somewhere behind her, Peter could vaguely make out the distant figure of Ned standing by the open doorway.

“Are you okay?” She asked, moving her hand upwards so that she could feel his forehead, the telltale sign that she was suspicious his nightmare might have been caused by an illness of some sort. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m fine, babe. It was, uh, just... just a bad dream. Nothing more. Go back to sleep now.” 

He shifted his attention to the boy by the door, “You too, Ned. It’s... what, three in the morning?” The other male looked him over, concern washing over his face. “Dude, it’s like ten already. You’ve been freaking out since about eight. We were about to call an ambulance, or an exorcist, depending which was cheaper.”

Peter smiled, chuckling slightly as Ned lightened the mood of the room. “You know, I think you could have done a quick google search and found out that the recommended mode to wake up a person from a nightmare is to pour some cold water on them, but to each their own.”

MJ screeched, folding over herself in laughter, “That’s horrible!” Peter laughed to, soon to be joined by Ned, as the three teenagers shared in a few everlasting minutes of pure laughter. In the midst of their joy, the world seemed to freeze, and all of Peter’s happiness faded, sudden as it had arrived, to be replaced by the grim reminder of what had transpired mere moments before their fun had begun. 

He let his eyes fall to his lap, where his hands crossed over one another in his shyness, “They usually don’t last that long.” 

The girl came leaned in closer to him, wrapping her gentle arms around his body in a short hug, so quick he might have missed the feeling. As she pulled away, removing her gentle warmth from his body, her voice emerged from the catacombs of the room. “What was it about?” MJ asked, and even without seeing it, Peter could tell that her face looked fit for an interrogator.

“Oh, just... you know, school. Kids.” Ned’s voice sang out from the corner, “Rich kids?” “Yeah.” Peter agreed, “Rich kids.”

The three teens sat silent, as all of them settled into the bed’s worn springs. Finally, Ned broke the emptiness by asking, “Do you like school? With the other rich kids?”

Peter laughed, feeling a touch of that earlier freedom come back to his lungs. “No.” He breathed out, “Not at all. They’re all elitists anyway, so it doesn’t matter much. I never really fit in with that crowd.”

“But aren’t you rich, too?”

“I come from a wealthy background, but that doesn’t make me rich. Rich kids have a sort of... society of their own. They don’t like me because I’m not up to their standard, I’m not of their blood. But, in my humblest opinion, their blood is 95% alcohol, so I’ll take my poor person blood with pride.”

“And you wonder why I find you attractive.” MJ joked, shaking her head a little, “You’re too good for this world.”

Peter let his eyes meet hers, and smiled with the utmost glee as he pressed a soft kiss to the edge of her lips, “No, you are.” He whispered. Both of them stared into the other’s eyes, a silent gesture of affection as their lips still tingled from the touch.

“Ew. Public Display of Affection is punishable by death in some countries.” Ned groaned, “Get a room.” Both boys laughed at their combinative antics, as MJ smiled once again. Ned’s mouth opened once again. “So, what’s it like being, you know, Peter Stark?”

Peter began to smile widely, as if his previous smile was a mere smirk, and sighed in resignation at Ned’s well-deserved curiosity. “Well, it isn’t good, in my opinion.” He began, “I’ve never really enjoyed my life. Ever since I was born my every move has been dictated by child psychologists, nannies, PR heads, even lawyers. They treat me like a puppet. And Tony, god he’s such a dick. That man has never so much as tried to give a flying shit about me. I don’t think I’ve ever even been in a room alone with him. And when Mama died, everything got so much worse. When I was little, she’d come and visit all the time. Karen told me that, had I not been an heir, Tony would have let me live with her.”

“Do you miss her?” Ned asked, quietly, as not to upset the other male, and cocking his head to the side. “No. Not anymore.” Peter fibbed, though only he was aware of such, “Stark men are made of iron. That’s what my etiquette coach says. Mr. Iglesia back at school says so, too.”

MJ frowned slightly at her boyfriend’s disturbed mood, and plainly sighed.

“Well, let’s drop that topic now. Peter has enough on his mind about all that, what with the radioactivity, and the-” She cut herself off, realizing what had slipped her mouth. She had meant to say “reality”, but all was said and done. Peter’s eyes laid still, frozen in panic.

Ned looked back at her, and took a moment to question the validity of his next statement. “Do... do you have powers? Like... like Captain America?”

Peter and MJ glanced at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, the boy started, “Ok. I’m going to trust you. Think you can keep a secret?” He asked, looking the other over for a quick moment. Ned nodded vigorously.

Slowly, as if he was afraid to move, Peter reached forward, pressing gently on the thin piece of hardware that wrapped itself around his wrists. Pressure ejected from the mechanism, as thick nylon sprayed out and attatched itself to Ned’s doorknob.

It very nearly resembled a spider web.

“Oh my god! Are you an avenger?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> Tumblr: badmcuposts


	13. What Would Mary Think?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She took in a sharp breath, not bothering to exhale as the oxygen fueled her coming tirade. But none such tirade came. No screaming, no yelling, no shouting. Nothing of the sort. Only silence, a deafening silence that plagued the room as the woman turned around and exited.

“Tony, you’re being ridiculous. Stop already.” Pepper commanded, roughly pulling her fiancée from his catatonic hole of focus. 

“I’m just in a little tizzy, Pep. Let me talk to the man for a few more minutes. Nobody’s going to die, are they?” He asked, head lolling over to the side as he struggled to maintain composure. They’d been at this for a few hours, Tony trying to make demands of the chief of police while Pepper relentlessly requested of him to please, please leave the poor guy alone.

He had only just recently had a major breakthrough, the single diamond in the ruff between a hell hole full of many false breakthroughs. He thought, in between his many other thoughts, that there could be a slim chance that Peter hadn’t relocated very far.

Even if the children had had an in with someone out of state, they wouldn’t have made it that far. Not yet. So, if, by some completely random chance, the state borders happened to be on the lookout for a certain five foot eight inch little troublemaker, that would just be too bad for Peter. 

All he needed was to get the kid cornered, just for a little while, and they could talk things through. They could put the whole ordeal behind them, and Tony could make up for everything he’d missed.

Everything.

He just had to see his son again. His boy. The child he had once refused to hold that now held him in the palm of his hands. So bright, more than bright enough. Why had he ever been so scrutinizing of his own child? The boy was a certified masterpiece, nobody could deny it. 

Except him. Except for the tutors he had hired, the ones that told him Peter was falling behind. Except for the PR team that had relentlessly pushed for Peter to be something bigger than life could create, greater than man could ever dream to be.

He had a lot of people to fire, he supposed. But not now. Not while he had a runaway teenager to catch. This was the main issue, and he had to focus on the problem at hand.

No matter how hard it was.

If he could just keep the kid still, if he could just get that second chance, he could fix everything. All it would take was a little bit of persuasion, a little bit of energy, a little bit of anything that could help.

God, he needed some help.

“Tony, come on. Leave the poor man be, you know Chief Morales can’t just set up a search along the border out of nowhere. These things take time, and planning, and-” “Not for me they don’t!” Tony interjected, leaving his lovely lady red-faced and enraged.

The woman looked at him, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?” She asked, “What if they aren’t even leaving the state? It’s kids, Tony! They don’t think of things like this! For all we know, Peter and that Michelle girl might just be hiding at a friend’s house or something. You’d be better off searching the whole state than just closing the border.”

At that, Tony’s eyes widened, a melodramatic indication that he was thinking of something. “You have a point.” He mumbled, snapping his calloused fingers as he grabbed a pencil. “Maybe we are better off sticking to just searching New York. Or, even better, the girl’s school.”

Suddenly, he gasped at his own genius, baffled by the complexity of his inner monologue. “That’s it! Check the goddamn school!”

Pepper smiled, but it didn’t last. She knew he was on the right track, but the redhead couldn’t let him be so stupid as to go off on his lonesome.

She took in a sharp breath, not bothering to exhale as the oxygen fueled her coming tirade. But none such tirade came. No screaming, no yelling, no shouting. Nothing of the sort. Only silence, a deafening silence that plagued the room as the woman turned around and exited.

And Tony waited.

He waited, and waited, and waited. He pondered his own wrongdoings, he questioned the validity of his triumphs. Who was he, if not the product of his fathers failings? Who would Peter be, ten, fifteen, twenty years from now? Who did he owe his life to, his fortune no longer in question, if not his son? What else had he done that was worth anything?

Iron Man? No, that was always more of a hobby. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he’d abused it more often than he had nurtured it. Too worked up by the glory to remember why he had resorted to beating up bad guys in the first place.

What would Mary think, if she knew that the one thing that she held the closest to her heart had been tarnished by his father’s hatred? His father’s fear?

The billionaire’s neck collapsed, and his head struggled as it attempted to keep itself upright, before landing harshly in the palms of his hands.

After he waited in the silence for a few more moments, with nothing but the gentle whir of his bots to placate him, he heard a voice from beyond his range of hearing. Blearily, he made out the words and identified the voice, struggling to pull himself from his slump.

“Coming to your senses, are you?” Steve asked, a small smirk playing across his chapped lips. “I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago.” Tony admitted, “For Mary’s sake.”

The two other men did not bother to ask who Mary was, rather using the available context clues to infer upon the situation. “Well,” Bucky started, his own smirk expanding into a full smile, teeth and all.

“You’re gonna need some help, aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are soooooooo appreciated guys! Loving the interaction from the last few chapters!
> 
> Tumblr: badmcuposts


	14. Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, MJ, too, became absorbed in the retelling, as if she had no memory pf the time Peter had reported such events to her over the phone. He supposed, as usual, his eloquence and press vocality classes were coming in handy. 
> 
> Peter wondered, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, if his and MJ’s children would find his storytelling voice as enriching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you like this chapter, it’s a little explanatory-exposition-y, but it’s necessary for the next few chapters. Enjoy!

“Oh my god! Are you an avenger?”

“What?” Peter asked, not sure whether his jerk reaction was to shove a hand over the other boy’s mouth or to curl up in a ball and die. 

MJ giggled, the most feminine and jubilant sound her boyfriend had ever heard come from the inner depths of her vocal chords. She found this all amusing, which caused Peter to groan in annoyance.

Of course... my ally has become my enemy, the runaway thought to himself.

“No, no, no, no. I’m not an avenger, are you serious?” He asked, “Tony doesn’t even know, so-” “YOUR FATHER- who, may I remind you, is fucking Iron Man- DOESN’T KNOW THAT YOU CAN SHOOT FUCKING SILLY STRING FROM YOUR WRISTS?” Ned screamed.

At this point, Peter finally decided that yes, he should have put his hand over Ned’s mouth, as the other teenager was likely going to wake the neighbors with how thin normal people walls seemed to be. God, I can hear the whole borough, he pondered.

“It’s not silly string, man. What even is that?” Peter acknowledged. At such a ludicrous and completely bonkers excuse of a question, Ned gasped, but Peter droned on in his explanations. “This is just my webbing. Similar to that of a spider. It’s a spider web.”

“You’re not even a spider.” Ned pointed out, rolling his eyes. “Why would you call it a spider web? Just call it, like, sticky spray.”

“First off, that’s a horrible name. Second off, I’m pretty sure walking on the celling makes me a spider in some extent. Legalities and all, cross-species genetics haven’t really been worked into the court systems as of yet, but I think I qualify.”

Ned, heaven give grace to his poor, poor soul, was anything but prepared for that bombshell of information.

“YOU CAN DO WHAT?”

-

After a short while of power demonstrations, followed by a courtly explanation of what “silly string” was, Peter found himself hanging upside down from the Leeds Family’s mantle. He also, less interestingly, found himself repeating the same response to Ned’s endless questions. A lot.

“So, do you, like, spit venom?”

“No.”

“What about multiple eyes?”

“No.”

“Eight legs?”

“No.”

“Do you kill your mates after copulation.”

“That’s just the females, one. Two, we’re all minors here, don’t talk about that kind of stuff. It’s gross. MJ is a girl. And, thrid, no.”

“Have you ever tried to eat a fly?”

“No.”

“What about another spider? You know, spiders participate in cannibalism a lot more often that you’d think. Me and MJ learned about that in Bio last year. What about that?”

“No.”

“But you have, I don’t know, a thorax, right?”

“Spiders are arachnids, not insects. They don’t have thoraxes. No.”

“Well, do you at least lay eggs?”

“No.”

“Ugh....” Ned whined, kicking his legs around. Peter frowned, supposing that his own disinterest had likely worn off onto his new friend. After a few grueling seconds of awkward silence, Ned sat up, straightening to attention. “So, like, how did it happen?” He asked.

Peter shrugged, not sure where to start. “The school went on a field trip to another student’s dad’s company, all political stuff,” he began, only to be interrupted by Ned. “Which school do you go to, anyway?” Peter rolled his eyes at the interjection. “Righterton Prep.” The boy stated, simply.

“Anyway”, he continued, “one of the guys, a pretty good friend of the son, decided to tie my shoe to the side of one of the tables that had all the display cases on it.”

Ned nodded along in conjecture with the story, following each of Peter’s words with bated breath. “But, thing is, he wasn’t very sneaky. I saw him bend down and do it. So, instead of moving when the group filed out, I stood still. Thought I could get the shoe untied once they were all gone. Except they were gone, and I realized the kid hadn’t tied my shoe. He’s used a zip tie.”

Suddenly, MJ, too, became absorbed in the retelling, as if she had no memory pf the time Peter had reported such events to her over the phone. He supposed, as usual, his eloquence and press vocality classes were coming in handy. 

Peter wondered, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, if his and MJ’s children would find his storytelling voice as enriching.

“So, I’m stuck in there, completely alone, with a bunch of creepy spiders. Then, as if life couldn’t get any worse, one of the spiders crawls out of her cage. I guess they forgot to lock it after her last feeding or something, I’m nearly positive that a lowly intern of some sort was fired that day, but I digress. So, she comes over to me, and I’m terrified, but I just decide to be a man and take it. Until she bites me.”

He pauses, dramatic affect taking control of his lips and gouging the inner cervices of his vernacular. He likes this, he likes the undying attention of his peers. It’s different from the daunting presence of his tutors and Karen; the stern gaze of his teachers, always slanted into a more negative sense of remorse; or, god forbid he dare to mention it, the press.

He let his mouth take shape, continuing its tale as his mind continued to wander without it. 

He keeps letting it move, flow, and bend until nearly fifteen minutes have gone by. He vaguely can recall, by that point, what he told. Only that they smiled as he did so.

“I get back to my jail cell that night, also known as the world’s most baby-proofed private floor, and I start throwing up.” “Did it hurt?” Ned asked, completely enthralled by the moment of pure bliss that encompassed him.

“Like hell.” Peter exclaimed, slightly proud of himself for the less formal response. MJ had told him once that normal kids didn’t feel the need to show off their intellect in each and every word, and he quite liked getting the chance to enjoy that feeling.

That feeling that normal kids got to feel every single day.

Happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget, kudos/comments/etc. are always appreciated!
> 
> Tumblr: badmcuposts


	15. My Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was cute, if not plain sexy, to see her get all riled up. Tony wouldn’t be afraid to admit that. What he was afraid to admit was the fact that seeing his Mary upset made him want to do unspeakable things to those that had harmed her.
> 
> However, he had harmed her himself. Mind that alliteration, would you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I just want to take this time to apologize for the lack of updates the past week. My mental health took a hit from quarantine and such, but I’m back and better than ever! If you were waiting on an update, I post anything and everything regarding this story on my tumblr (@badmcuposts) under the tag “2.2 million”. So, please take the time to check that out!

Beautiful woman.

That was all Tony could think about as he strolled through the crowds of people, only one of them still holding his gaze hostage after a single glance, hoarded close to her in a still life of compelling narratives and exciting adventures.

Mary, the most intelligent and powerful woman Tony had ever been with, was guiding him by the hand through the bottom floor of the Malibu home. Which, yeah, was saying a lot considering how many women he’d had late night escapades with since the beginning of his college days.

What? Fourteen was the age when most young men exploring the inner depths of their newfound sexuality. The girls were just... a little more available when you were already a member of the country’s top upper education program.

Still, Mary Fitzpatrick took the cake. She took that cake and threw it away so that she could bake a whole new cake for them to share, that’s the kind of person she was. It was almost romantic, their nearly constant conversation. Or, at least, he thought it was.

“Tony,” Mary sighed, rolling her eyes in a gentle display of affection, “You talk too  
much. Let’s just... get it over with.”

The man cocked his head to the side, his hair falling over his eyes in a way characteristic of him and only him. “What do you want to get over with? The party? I can send everybody home, you know.” He lamented, a strange sense of panic overwhelming every orifice of his being at the very chance that his Mary would leave.

She smiled, a sly and cherishing smile that reminded him of the day they met. “I was referring to all this conversation, babe. I mean, really, Tony? Can’t we just have some fun?”

“You know that’s not all our relationship is about, Mary.” He grieved. “You’re not a one-time bang or a spring fling to me. Not anymore. We’ve been over this. You’re it. You’re... you’re my girl. Like we’re teenagers playing hooky and running away from home, eh? It’s all about you.”

“Is it? Or is it all about you being afraid to go without a condom for once?” She asked, a sentimental kind of anger grazing by the depths of her face. The tips of her ears turned a fiery red, daring to blaze down the city in a fit of great vengeance. “You know how badly I want that, Tony. Won’t you put out luck in God’s hands for once?”

It was cute, if not plain sexy, to see her get all riled up. Tony wouldn’t be afraid to admit that. What he was afraid to admit was the fact that seeing his Mary upset made him want to do unspeakable things to those that had harmed her.

However, he had harmed her himself. Mind that alliteration, would you?

“Come on, honey. It isn’t really my style. I cant just risk it.”

“I’m on the pill, Tones. That’s only one of our measures being taken away. The cards are still in your favor. Just... give me the chance. One time.”

“Are you sure you haven’t forgotten recently?”

“I’ve never forgotten in my goddamn life! Come on, Tony, work’s been rough lately. I swear Osborn is gonna have my head on a platter if I don’t get this chemical synthesized by next week and I just... need some time for us. For our future. Won’t you do that for me?”

“I would love to, Mary. You know I would. You know how much I want to. Here, I’ll send everyone home and we can keep the condoms and-” Mary stopped him before he even reached the door of the mansion’s grand bedroom, halting his exit with her own bravado. 

Her eyes trailed his lips, as she grabbed his waist with a domineering poise. “If it’s all about me, just like you said, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if we let the party go on. We can just... make use of the room and have a little fun, huh? My way.”

Tony smiled, not knowing whether it was to himself or the woman in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do that.”

And before he knew it, Tony was waiting in the bed while Mary slipped into something she’d gotten in Paris a few weeks prior in the bathroom, always such a fan of making him wait on her. Her black dress lay abandoned on the bedroom floor, a shell of the woman who hid from him.

He’d almost forgotten about the lack of condom.

Her voice echoed through the halls, gentle and sweet. The smooth Italian words quickly flooded from her lips in the most graceful of tempos, as if dancing through the sound waves. Caro Mio Ben, known in English as Ah Dearest Love. A song that he knew was meant for her to sing to him. 

However, unlike the partner in the story, he would never leave her. Never. Not for anything.

“Better?” Mary asked, opening the door and stepping into the limelight. “Much better.” The man agreed, “Get over here.”

And she did. And they... continued the night’s activities. And everything was okay. 

Until it wasn’t.

The nights flew by after that. After they made such a reckless decision, and after he’d agreed to her delusional desires and theological wishes. 

_I’ve never forgotten in my goddamn life_, Mary had said. Well, if that was true, then they seemed to be plain out of luck on this one. 

A 99% chance of avoidance. Everyone understands what that implies, what that 1% risk could mean. What it could create.

But days flew by, days into years. And soon he forgot about the love on that night. He forgot the trust that they had placed in one another. He forgot her.

He only remembered the result of their union, the literal child that he abandoned at birth to reside in a tower all alone. He’d forgotten her, and he’d remembered Peter. 

For better or for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!


	16. Junk Food and Movie Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have the whole set inside of the DVD cabinet, we can do any of them you like. Let’s pop in... uh... do you like the prequels?” He asked, pulling out a small box with the words Star Wars- The Complete Collection written on the side.
> 
> “Uh...” Peter stunted, completely thrown off his game. “Are they... good?”
> 
> “ARE THEY GOOD? THEY’RE THE BEST MOVIES OF ALL FUCKING TIME US WHAT THEY ARE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find updates on this story and more via my tumblr (@badmcuposts) !!!

“This tastes like heaven on a cloud!” 

Ned laughed at Peter’s antics, leaning over to wipe the other boy’s mouth with an off-brand moist towelette like a parent would do with a messy toddler.

Although it was a shock to the others, Peter had never eaten a snack that wasn’t a _gourmet vegan frittata with lean honey roasted chicken and blah blah blah blah blah other fancy words_ that he couldn’t be bothered to remember right now galore. 

Which, of course, meant some normal kid snack time was more than necessary.

Especially considering the fact that there were some graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars leftover in the fridge from a camping trip Ned had taken with his family a few months back. 

Sue him, the teenage genius wanted something sugary.

The three of them had spent nearly an hour perfecting their creations, all while Peter’s stomach rumbled and grumbled inside of him. Finally, they each looked like a cartoon drawing of their identities, beautiful and unparalleled.

He had watched their masterpieces spin as they basked in the warm glow of the microwave oven, slowly turning into a beautiful mix of golden brown and dark chocolate swirls. 

Like a Monet, of one of Tony’s Picassos, the colors blended together and still stood apart in a brilliant contrast.

The thick marshmallow melted in his mouth when he took that first bite. It felt like he had spoken, heaven on a cloud, even if MJ found his colorful phrasing to be a bit to avant-garde for her less exposed ears to handle.

“Just say it tastes good, nerd. Here, take a bit of mine!” The girl teased, handing him a minuscule piece of her own s’more.

Peter really did love her, didn’t he? He loved this. He loved the normalcy of it all. The way that, to any outsider looking in, there was no grand runaway plan or potential jail time. They were only themselves. A teenager, his girlfriend, and his new best friend.

Like that really old movie Karen let him watch back when he was little. The... lunch gang? Something like that. 

It had kids in it. Normal kids. When little Peter saw it, he thought that they must be strange.

No, little Peter was strange for not understanding that this was where he was meant to be.

Maybe, in another world, it hadn’t happened this way. Maybe that world was one where Tony did want him, where his mama hadn’t been the only saint in his life, where the world wasn’t constantly trying to get him killed and end this everlasting suffering.

Peter wouldn’t dare imagine such a thing as that. 

“So, Pete,” Ned started, already grabbing his friend by the hand and marching his fellow male into the living room, “wanna watch a couple movies with me? You seem like a _Star Wars_ guy.”

Peter’s mind went vacant, struggling to comprehend the name. It sounded familiar, maybe Tony had mentioned it at some point?

Ned continued his ranting as the boy knelt down to shuffle through what Peter could only assume to be one of those ancient DVD holding places. 

“I have the whole set inside of the DVD cabinet, we can do any of them you like. Let’s pop in... uh... do you like the prequels?” He asked, pulling out a small box with the words _Star Wars- The Complete Collection_ written on the side.

“Uh...” Peter stunted, completely thrown off his game. “Are they... good?”

“ARE THEY GOOD? THEY’RE THE BEST MOVIES OF ALL FUCKING TIME US WHAT THEY ARE!”

And, just like that, the movie night began.

-

“That was awesome.” Peter relented, laying back onto the couch as the mountains of spilled popcorn and candy shifted around him.

”Told you so, Stark. See, I know the good shit. I’m, like, a film connoisseur, or whatever. If you wanna become a cultured man such as myself, you’re laying low in the right apartment.”

MJ snided, “Stop turning my nerd into a bigger nerd. He’s mine, not yours.”

”Is not!”

”Is too!”   
  
”Is not!”

”Is too!” 

“I’m a human!” Peter jokingly cut in, turning the playful argument into a bigger laugh than it had been.

The teenagers festered around themselves, lingering in the bliss of the moment, before Peter caught sight of something peculiar out of the corner of his eye.

Something eerily familiar.

No, correction.

Someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	17. Finding an Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We appear to be down to two.” Rhodey said, his face appearing fauxly straight laced despite his own laughter. “One girl, one boy. A battle of the sexes for the ages.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m backkkkkk!!!!

“I still say we narrow it down by class.”

“Class? This girl is in high school, not kindergarten. I have a strong suspicion that she has potential contacts outside of her grade level homeroom.”

“Well, maybe so, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth a try.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk.”

Steve, Bucky, Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, and Tony were all suffering through the argument together. The seemingly neverending fight over where to locate potential allies for one Michelle Jones was nowhere near drawing to a close, and it had already been two hours.

“Well, the yearbook mentioned her as a member of their Academic Decathlon team, right?” Bucky asked. “Yeah,” Tony agreed, “but so are, like, twelve other kids. They’re going to nationals this year, I heard. Right up against Peter’s school. What’s your point? What would that help, anyway?”

Rhodey perked up at that. “That’s got it narrowed down to twelve kids, Tones.” He pointed out.

Tony, ever the observant professional, commended his best friend’s deduction skills somewhere deep in his mind, more focused on the task at hand. He had twelve kids to cipher through, and then he could finally tell Peter that he was officially prepared to love him.

No matter how late to the game he was.

“Academic Decathlon team, pictured above,” Bucky read aloud, “Michelle Jones, Daya Randall, Lucas Perez, Abraham Swift, Elizabeth Brant, Sally Doraine, Nia Evanson, Edward Leeds, Charles Sanchez, Elizabeth Allen, Vincent Norsberry, Eugene Thompson, Seymour Louis.”

He looked to Tony. “Any of those names sound familiar to you?” He asked, “Any bells getting rung in that there noggin of yours?”

“No, Mr. antithesis of anifreeze. It’s just names. Trust me, you’re talking to the man who forgot the name of the mother of his child until extremely recently. Nobody is safe." Tony joked, preferring to leave out the immense guilt he felt over the repression of the woman who, whether or not it was _his_ goal, made him who he was today.

Steve smiled, “Oh, is that why you have so many silly nicknames?” He poked.

Tony laughed in return. A genuine, full belly laugh that made his insides hurt a little. He’d missed this. He’d missed spending time with his friends, not a worry in the world.

As if a hanging demon had been lifted from the room.

He wondered, somewhere deep inside, if he should drop the whole charade and let Peter come to him. He understood that forgiving and forgetting was the whole goal, but he wasn’t sure if he could face the kid again.

_Not the kid_, he reminded himself, _Peter, my son._

He fretted the ambiguity, the lingering question of just how he was meant to show the boy that he was really serious about starting over, before he dropped it altogether.

The group digressed. “Uhhh, well, let’s fo with what Bucky suggested and take out the kids that are from different classes.” Steve suggested, “She’s a smart girl, right? No way she’s going to get anybody she isn’t extremely close with involved.”

“That still leaves three kids, not one.” Said Bucky, “Elizabeth Brant, Edward Leeds, and Eugene Thompson.” “Thompson...” Pepper pondered, trying the name on her tongue. “Isn’t Ralph Thompson’s son named Eugene?” She asked.

Tony smiled, “Guess that’s one more off of the list. Not a chance in hell that Ralph Thompson wouldn’t notice if my kid was hiding out with his worthless little shit.” 

The congregation laughed again, all remembering that one time that the Thompson family tried to buy out SHIELD, only to discover that you cannot purchase a government organization. 

“We appear to be down to two.” Rhodey said, his face appearing fauxly straight laced despite his own laughter. “One girl, one boy. A battle of the sexes for the ages.”

Tony grew excited, and quickly shot up. “How about this, Pep, Rhodey bear, and I will go after the girl. After all, ladies like to stick together and all. Plus, it looks like the little child-stealing bitch is in a few other clubs with her. I’m sure he’s being hidden there. But, just in case, to make sure we leave no stone unturned and all, Steve and his _not-boyfriend_ can go down to the boy’s place.”

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend.” Steve pushed. “Yeah, sure, keep saying that. Doesn’t make it necessarily true.” Tony rejected.

“All in favor of the plan?” Rhodey asked. A chorus of “Aye”s emerged from the cacophony of old friends. _Aye aye,  
indeed._

-

“Steve?” Bucky asked, glancing over his friend’s shoulder, “Do we really need to spend our night stalking innocent children?” He asked.

Steve looked him over. “Buck, you know it’s better safe than sorry, we just need to keep a keen eye on the premises and make sure that Stark’s boy isn’t in there. Once we’ve gotten the overview, we can go home and pretend like we didn’t completely invade this kid’s privacy.”

Bucky sighed, beginning to question why he couldn’t just go home now. The kid wasn’t in there. The chances were slim to none, they knew that. He was with the girl from the yearbook, not this boy.

The two war veterans pulled up into a fire escape, and situated themselves in front of a window that led into the Leeds family’s apartment. And then they realized just what they were looking at.

_Who_ they were looking at.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Call Stark. _Now_.”

At the cue of that statement, they saw their person of interest laugh, a gleeful expression dancing across his features in a way they had never seen them form together before, turning his head around as curls flowed over his face, before stopping straight in his tracks. And staring right at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	18. The Battle That Loses The War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Am I getting arrested?” He asked, panicked.
> 
> “No, no, no, no, no.” Peter reassured, “They aren’t here for you, they’re here for me. You’re just involved, you’re not the perpetrator. I’m the one that broke out of my own metaphysical prison and ran to safety. The wardens are just coming to collect their bounty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last solo-Peter chapter! Next chapter, all formatting goes out the window. It’s about to go down.

The boy had learned many things in his relatively short life about conflict.

One, not necessitating a confrontation does not inherently mean that the fighting is for naught. If you’re in the right, then the other party is the villain of the story. Treat them as such. 

Two, screaming solves nothing. Calm, regulated behavior allows one to place their opponent into an uncomfortable situation where they begin to feel as though they are overreacting. Being cool and laid back wins arguments.

Three, innocents are only innocent if they have no relation to the conflict being approached. If they are at all tied to the situation, keep them. Maintain witnesses that are on your side, pad your entourage, be the bigger fish.

Now, he didn’t necessarily always take his own advice. Peter had many stories to tell of uncomfortable incidents in school where he could have potentially made friends, but chose to punch a kid in the kneecaps instead.

Yeah, kindergarten had been a rough year.

Still, some innate part of him knew the moment that he latched eyes with Steve Rogers that he had to follow his own rules strictly, obediently, and meticulously. Or else, god forbid, he could hurt everything he’d worked for.

He would lose MJ, the girl he wanted to marry. He would never see her shining face again, or hear her beautiful voice as it lulled him to the sound of her heart beating strongly, safely. Peter couldn’t bare that thought. He couldn’t let them do anything to her.

“Peter?” The girl in question asked, “What’s wrong?”

The boy knew that he couldn’t lie to her, he didn’t have the balls. He owed it to his girlfriend to let her know the truth.

“We’ve got company.” He murmured, still keeping his chocolate eyes locked firmly onto Steve and Bucky’s forms. “And I don’t think they’re here for s’mores, if you know what I mean.”

Suddenly, sensing his friend’s implication, Ned turned around from his spot on the couch, and screamed at the sight of two avengers on the fire escape.

“Am I getting arrested?” He asked, panicked.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Peter reassured, “They aren’t here for you, they’re here for me. You’re just involved, you’re not the perpetrator. I’m the one that broke out of my own metaphysical prison and ran to safety. The wardens are just coming to collect their bounty.”

He knew that the two super soldiers could hear him from outside, he had been experiencing that same relentless and unforgiving noise since the bite, but he didn’t much care. If anything, he was glad that those degenerates could hear him.

They were part of the problem, they were the reason that his life was filled with nothing but nannies and reporters. They hadn’t fucking loved him. Nobody had.

Suddenly, Peter felt hid entire being betraying him as he walked towards the window and unlocked it, raising it up so that he could be face to face with his adversaries.

“Resorting to spying on minors now, are we?” He asked, basking in the glow of a faux impetulant power over his elders. They were in his domain, he reminded himself, they had come to play a game that he had been playing from the moment he was brought into the world with this god forsaken surname.

Steve nodded, “Peter.” He notioned.

At that move, both men slid in through the opening, taking their strides in hold as the two other teens scrambled out of the way.

“You guys can stay,” Peter told them, “they aren’t about to do shit.”

“Oh, are we not?” Bucky mocked confusion, holding his hand to his chest as though he were a middle aged woman named Karen, clutching her pearls in distress. “And here I was thinking you were about to take the easy way out.”

Peter rolled his eyes, mumbling random noises under his breath to keep up the act. Should he be successful, he knew he could win.

“Now, here’s how it’s gonna be, Peter.” Steve addressed, “Buck will give your dad a call, we can wait here for about ten minutes until he shows, then the two of you are going to have a little heart to heart while the NYPD takes care of clearing up the rest of this charade so these kids are kept as far away from you as possible. He’s gotten really upset over this, and I think you need to see him. Okay?”

Peter scoffed, choosing not to verbally comment on the snide remark about what they wanted to to do with Ned and MJ.

_If you lay one hand on either of them_, He thought, _I will make sure the last thing you ever see is my fist colliding with your face._

“You do realize it isn’t illegal to disappear, right? You can’t just forcibly remove me. I’m perfectly allowed to leave as long as it’s a sane decision.” He explained as calmly as possible.

“You got upset, your dad has thought about it long and hard, and he understands wherever you’re coming from. That’s why he’s got us out here looking for you. It wasn’t in your right mindset to run away.” Bucky retorted, grabbing Peter’s shoulder far too firmly for it to be taken as kind.

Peter breathed in once, then out. Then again and again and again and again and a thousand more times as he steadily laid the only response that could come to his mind out on the table. “My Mensa card says otherwise.” He contended.

Steve rolled his eyes, making a signal with his hand. At its motion, Bucky pulled out his StarkPhone and began pressed Tony’s contact, before placing the screen to his ear.

Tony picked up.

“Yeah? No, no. We have him. He’s safe, don’t worry. Yeah, kid’s a little argumentative, but I think he’s still mad at you is all. Not overly aggressive, no. Uhhhh not much. I don’t know. Looks like a slumber party gone lame or some shit. Not sure. Okay, yeah, yeah, got it. Can you make it fast? Stevie can only deal with this kid’s sass for so long, and I don’t think you want half a child by the end of this. Joking! Okay, okay. See you then, bye.”

Peter stared Bucky down, hoping and praying that he still had a chance.

He knew he didn’t.

Tony was going to show up, and they were going to haul him away. He’d be locked on that floor forever, never allowed to leave for fear of another escape. He’d lose internet privileges, just to make sure he didn’t contact MJ ever again. He’d never kiss her, never love her properly again. Tony would hire some tutor so he never even went to school- which, yeah, actually sounded pretty nice, but that wasn’t the point.

Everything was going to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more updates, follow me on Tumblr (@badmcuposts).  
As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	19. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He tried to redeem his cause, and- in his panic- shouted the phrase he had abstained from saying for so many years. 
> 
> “I love you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who said the climax meant this was the end of the story?? Don’t worry, we still have a while left!!! I know you all were worried. Xoxo
> 
> <><><>
> 
> ¡Y una nota por mis lectores de español! Yo entiendo que muchas de uds. hablan este idoma mejor que inglés. Por favor, amigos, comenta si quieren una versión traducida. Puedo traducerlo durante de mi vacación del verano, si quieren. Por favor, me ve como una amiga. Yo solo quiero ayduarlos. Pero, recuerda, español es mi segunda idoma, y estoy aprendiendo todavía. Estoy muy aburrida en cuarentena, y no tengo algo hacer. Si yo traduco el cuento, más personas pueden leerlo. ¿Es este una buena idea? No sé. por favor, comentar sus opiniones en este.

A fly was buzzing in the right corner of the room, right next to a small light that had half way gone out.

_Buzz_

_Buzz buzz_

_Buzz buzz buzz_

It seemed to speak to Peter, to taunt him. As though it knew itself to be the prey of the very arachnid he part-way was. Perhaps it could smell it on him.

The boy continued to stare at the insect, his eyes following it as it flitted and fluttered around. No matter where it would go, it couldn’t leave the room. It couldn’t leave the apartment. It was trapped, as was he.

A spider and his prey had never had such a strange thing in common.

“He’s about two minutes away.” Bucky explained, poking and prodding around the room.

Peter glared at him with a rage filled heart that shed its ire into the sockets of the boy’s eyes. His blood rushed and his face heated up, his body preparing to fight although he knew he would not.

The man sighed at the sight. “You know, Peter, we aren’t on his side here.” He claimed, “We only want what’s best for the future, and I believe your dad is more than ready to forgive and forget.”

“Really? Are you sure, sir? Because it certainly sounds to me like you are on Tony’s side.” Peter jeered. 

Bucky’s face went red from both accusation and shock. He had never heard the boy refer to the man in question as “Tony”, having only ever seen the two really interact in interviews. 

He had assumed poorly.

Before the moment ceased, a knock was heard at the door. Almost instantaneously, it opened without a welcome. 

Peter wanted to did. 

Tony couldn’t have been happier to see his son, though. That face he had never truly looked at. The boy had his eyes... he really did.

“Well, are we going to say our hellos now, or should that wait until after you haul me back to my prison cell?” Peter asked, an impatient glint in his eyes.

Tony would admit that he had never heard such open slander towards his name, though he supposed it was deserved.

He smiled to the best of his ability. “Come here, son.” He beckoned, arms wide in anticipation. The man could only hope that his boy would run into them.

Peter did nothing of the sort.

“You’d have half a mind not to call me that.” He seethed, a fire burning from deep inside of his soul. Peter was ignited, enraged into a fit of flames that threatened to burn the apartment building to the ground.

Tony didn’t seem to follow, though. “What? My son?” He asked, taken aback. “Do you really think I would come this far if I hadn’t realized who I was? Do you think that low of me?”

Peter scoffed. “I think you’re an ignorant bastard who got stuck with one of his own. Don’t play the victim card, it won’t work on me.” He contended.

“Peter, please.” The man begged, “Just give me a hug.”

He wanted his son to love him. He wanted to give his boy that hug that he had never given. He wanted the kid to understand. But Peter was being so cross, so undeniably cross. Perhaps the kid needed time, but that could be done later.

Tony wasn’t leaving without his kid.

Peter lost it at the request, and went entirely berserk. “Leave me alone!” He shouted.

“I understand you’re upset- you have every right to be- but I really am sorry, Peter.” Tony explained, “I’m so, so sorry. I- I thought that if I pretended you weren’t there, or if I ignored your humanity, that- that maybe... you wouldn’t remind me so much of _her_.”

He had laid his heart out on a golden platter.

He’d never done that before.

The realization had never fully hit him, np matter how much he had always known what he was doing. Even in the last few days, with all of the digging up of buried emotions, he had yet to fully admit to it.

No matter how much Tony had moved on, he still wasn’t in over Mary. He still hadn’t accepted what she had done that night. He still loved her, because he couldn’t convince himself that she was wrong. 

The only problem being, he had never told Peter what happened that night in Malibu.

The boy roared in disgust. “My mother was an _angel_ compared to you. At least she would stop by once a week, maybe twice. She used to talk about taking me to the playground one day, just the two of us. My mama was good to me. Don’t you _ever_ say her name in vain again, understand me?”

“Peter...” Tony choked, the word nearly swallowing in his mouth. But he didn’t get far, did he? Because, before he could make the move to plead once more, the boy bellowed again.

“I asked you a question!”

That was the end of the line for Tony. Peter wasn’t listening, he wasn’t getting it. “And I am trying to apologize! Don’t you see how much I missed you?” He declared, “God, kid, I about went gray trying to find you. I’m sorry, again, but you need to understand that-”

Peter went red, saw red, and felt red. The whole room was envelopes in that clean shade of bloody masses that made him want to punch the wall straight through.

“Knowing that you were wrong doesn’t fix what you did!” The teenager chastised, “You left me! You left me all alone with nothing but some goddamn nannies and tutors to keep me company! You hated me! And you always will, no matter what you say, you always will! _Nothing_ is going to smooth that over!”

Tony choked. What was Peter going on about? Why couldn’t he see how much he was hurting? The way that he had realized his error. Couldn’t he acknowledge that pain?

He tried to redeem his cause, and- in his panic- shouted the phrase he had abstained from saying for so many years. 

“I love you!”

Suddenly, Peter froze. An unfortunate reaction, but such a thing was to be expected after such a key moment. Tony could only hope that such a thing could serve as a catalyst for his boy. Set him on the right track and all.

But things could never go his way, could they?

“How old am I?” Peter asked, cool and calculated with a face as blank as a new canvas.

“...What?” Tony choked.

“_HOW OLD AM I?_” He repeated

“Pete, I...” The man stumbled.

But the boy wasn’t in the mood for stumbles. “Don’t hesitate, asshole, I asked you a question.”

“Why is that important?” He checked.

Peter stared at him, dead in the eyes. His mouth opened and threatened with its presence.

“If you really loved me, or even fucking liked me, you would know the answer. But you don’t, do you?” He jeered.

Tony rushed, not bothering to do the quick math. He knew this. Of course he did. He had been a bad father, but he wasn’t... he wasn’t _that_ bad. “You’re 13.” He responded.

Peter screeched in a fit of anger. “I’m 15!”

“Son, please, just-”

But the boy wouldn’t say boo. He was mad, oh was he mad. How could Tony be such an idiot? To really believe that he could ever be anything more than the man he always had been would be a fool’s errand. 

Peter began to monologue, a careful soliloquy that he had practiced nearly every single day in his head since he was a little boy. Ever since he realized that his own father didn’t love him. The ending had always been a trail off, the telltale sign on a young child not knowing how the story ends.

Well, he isn’t a young child anymore, is he?

“I’m 15. I was born on August 10th, 2001 in Queens Memorial Hospital and _you didn’t even show up._ You sent your fucking security detail to collect me as soon as I was discharged, and attempted to bribe my mother into giving me her last name so that I wouldn’t be connected to you on paper. You tried everything in your power to distance myself from you and you failed. And when I finally, finally free myself from you, you hunt me down like an animal and dare to call it love. You’re sick.”

At each sentence, the teenager took a step closed to Tony, his face growing harsher and meaner. He was out for the kill. He was too angry to think straight. Nothing mattered anymore.

And all the while, Tony was stepping backwards.

“Peter, what the hell are you doing?” Steve asked, beginning to carefully walk over and towards the boy. Tony hoped that Peter wasn’t under too much duress.

The kid perked up at that, a clearly phony and exaggerated smile on his face. He was being sarcastic. Scarily so. He was going to hurt someone. “Just a little friendly conversation, Rogers. Do leave us be, will you?”

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret, son.” Bucky warned, joining the party at the first sign of a fight.

Peter reminded him, “Don’t call me _son_.”

“Behave yourself, kid.” The billionaire in the room threatened.

Steve keened. “Grab him.” He commanded, and Bucky followed his lead. Both super soldiers towered over the boy, each taking an arm as they attempted to hound him into submission.

Attempted. For as soon as a hand grasped Peter’s right elbow, the boy launched his entire body upwards, a violent reflex of vengeance. His knee catapulted into Steve’s nose, before his foot kicked the man onto the ground.

“Shit! What the hell?” He shouted, his face now slammed beyond the repair of a simple band-aid and bloodied. Steve looked like roadkill.

Michelle shouted from the corner, where Tony honestly had barely noticed her. “Peter, stop!”

Somewhere, deep in the distance from under his breath, Ned mumbled something that was barely audible. “That’s one way to blow his cover...” “Ned, shut up.” The girl interrupted.

“Buck, do the... do the...” Steve trailed off, struggling to gain his strength from where he lay on the ground.

Bucky took the opportunity as Peter grasped for a breath, putting the boy into a chokehole and applying pressure to his neck, only for Peter to drop limp in his arms. Calm, quiet, and transportable. 

“He’s upset, let’s get them back to the tower.” Tony insisted, taking the boy off of Bucky’s hands and carrying him back to the expensive car outside.

Ned shot up. “Them?”

“You two are involved, you’re coming with us for the meantime.” Bucky explained, grabbing the two minors. 

“No, we aren’t!” The evident leader of the two insisted. But Ned didn’t budge. “MJ, just go, we’ll be close to Peter that way.” He said. “Fine, but if you touch my arm again you’ll be praying for the day you’re face heals.” She threatened.

As the two older men guided the children out, Steve still clutching his face in pain, he made one quick comment on the matter. “She’s feisty.”

“You can say that again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!! Come stop by @badmcuposts on tumblr and pay me a visit!


	20. Luckiest Kid In The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a flashback while drugged out on the way back to the tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¡Si quieres un version de este cuento que es en español, por favor, comentar!
> 
> Go read Legacy by jamie_suesser she deserves it

_“When is the man comin’?”_

_“Who?” Miss Louise said, struggling to brush Peter’s tangled hair as the makeup artist attempted to cake on foundation without ruining the boy’s baby soft skin._

_Peter thought for a minute, remembering the name that the nannies would refer to the big man who lived upstairs as. “M-m-misser... misser s’ark.” He repeated._

_“Oh, yes, Mr. Stark.” The woman recounted. “Why would you think he’s coming, Peter?” Well, why did he? It seemed right._

_The big man was always going important places. Wasn’t this important? Peter glanced to Obadiah in the corner, but the man only glanced his way as he typed away at his computer._

_The boy shrugged. “Mama woulda liked it.” He explained, assuming that was enough to justify his point of view._

_“Well, your mother isn’t here to see this. So, what she would have wanted doesn’t matter.” Miss Louise told him, “And if any of the reporters try to grab you and ask questions, you tell them he couldn’t bare to see her be buried, okay? This is a big PR opportunity for us.”_

_“Yes ma’am.” Peter agreed._

_Miss Louise smiled, before adjusting her attention back to the rat’s nest on top of the boy’s head. His hair stylist wasn’t available at the moment, so she had to do this herself. “Right. Now, what did you do to your hair last night, young man?” She questioned._

_“Brushed it!” Peter exclaimed, very proud of himself for doing his own hair._

_Maybe the big man would be proud of him, too._

_“Yes, I see. Well, you should know better than to be interfering with the product we had synthesized. Don’t you want your hair to straighten out?” She asked, keeping her tone just the right amount of gentle as to not cause a tantrum._

_Peter was known for crying when he was told off, a trait that she had been working to break as of recently. It simply wouldn’t pass for him to think such a girlish and frilly display of emotion was acceptable._

_“No, I like it curly.” Peter said._

_Miss Louise laughed. “Mr. Stark saw your picture last week and he didn’t agree with the sentiment. He said you look like a poodle. Are you a dog, Peter?” She checked, hoping to get the point across._

_“No, but-”_

_“Then stop allowing yourself to look like one.” _

_Peter pouted. “Mama liked my hair.” He muttered._

_Miss Louise scoffed. “What did I tell you about your mother? Behave for me, Peter, or we won’t be taking you at all. We could just tell the reporters that you were to upset to go, could be good for humanizing.” She threatened._

_Peter didn’t want to be kept home, though. He wanted to see Mama again!_

_Somehow, deep inside, he knew that she wouldn’t actually keep him away. Miss Louise, like all of the other nannies he had been through, loved his mother far more than his father._

_“I wanna say buh-bye.” He relented._

_The woman smiled, then, and gave him a painfully tight squeeze of the shoulder. “Then stop whining like a baby. You’re going to be the head of an empire, not a dog walker. You’re four years old. Act adult for once.”_

_Peter didn’t bother to remind her that he was three._

_-_

_“Stop wiggling. It’s two more questions.” Mr. Jackson pushed._

_The boy groaned and shuffled in his seat once more. “I don’t wanna do it!” He screamed._

_The man sighed and stopd up, coming over to where Peter was sitting and lifting the boy so that he could sit him on his own lap. Trapped in the position, unable to flee._

_Mr. Jackson spoke again, “You have to, unless you would rather be getting swatted with a hairbrush for misbehaving. Go.” _

_“I took one last month, though!” Peter cried._

_He didn’t want to take another stupid IQ test. All they did was make the people with the cameras scream at him for another few days._

_“Press” was the word the PR team always used. Press clearly was another word for monster._

_Not the monsters that Peter read about children finding under their beds in his psychology books, but something similar. Like the political tyrants his history tutor taught him about last week._

_“Well, as long as Mr. Stark is gone, we need to distract the press. If you break a few records, we can pawn it all off onto you.” Mr. Jackson stressed, gesturing for Peter to continue._

_Peter whined in detestation. “I broke the record already.”_

_“For a child under ten! You’re six years old, Peter, this is ridiculous. You could the breaking the all-age male record by the end of the year at this rate if you would actually focus!” The man shouted._

_So, Peter did as he was told, not wanting to let his caretaker see as his eyes welled up. He wasn’t supposed to cry._

_He was doing it anyways. Mr. Jackson would probably get him for it later._

_By the end of the minute, the test was complete._

_“What happens if he’s dead?” Peter asked. Mr. Stark had been gone for two weeks already, it seemed likely. Maybe he was finally gone._

_Mr. Jackson smiled at the compliance. “We can find a regent of sorts. Obadiah would do just fine until you’re 18.” _

_“Obie is scary.” Peter complained._

_The man chuckled. “He’s your godfather, you should be nice to him.”_

_“He calls me bad words.” The young child began to stress, struggling to fully communicate that something about Obadiah Stane was wrong. _

_Off. _

_Bad._

_“We all do, kid. Stark’s called you far worse things than anyone. Now, get moving.”_

_-_

_“Mr. Stark, you can’t go yet!” Miss Lucas called._

_The man turned around and rolled his eyes. “Why? Who the hell decides what I do?” He asked._

_“Peter has to walk out with you, sir.” She explained, pulling the prodigy behind her as the boy rolled along with his new Heelys._

_Mr. Stark’s face was washed over with a wave of realization. “Oh. Yeah, sure. Where is he?”_

_“I’m here.” Peter spoke, quiet and meek but still present. Could the man not see him? Maybe he was invisible._

_The billionaire looked over him, seemingly trying to piece together the enigma lf the boy’s very presence. “Right. You’ve gotten taller than you were last time.” He said._

_“I had a growth spurt.” Peter explained. _

_They had just seen each other two months ago, for that candid press opportunity at the nearby park. They had gone on a jog all over the place while pretending to smile and laugh. He must have forgotten about that._

_Then again, it was a rarity that the man actually remembered that he had a son to begin with._

_“Ah, forgot all about having those. Whatever. Come on, I need to be in Washington before the end of the day, I don’t need some snot-nosed brat slowing me down.” He chided, attempting to shuffle Peter off and out towards the private jet._

_Peter went along without a fight, preparing to smile. “Okay.”_

_He began to roll again, happy with his cool new shoes and excited to ride them into the sky. But, he never got to have any fun, did he?”_

_“Woah woah woah woah woah, wait a second. What are these?”_

_“It’s all the rage with kids these days.” Miss Lucas explained. “They’re very expensive shoes.”_

_Mr. Stark scoffed. “So? I don’t need those monstrosities in a picture with me.”_

_“Sir, I really think they’ll make you look good. Buying him such a novelty shows how much you love being a father, it should help with some of the recent scandals.” One of the PR people agreed, _ _coming over with a wet wipe and cleaning up a small bit of dust on the items._

_Couldn’t let people know that they had sat in their box for the last month._

_Mr. Stark conceded, but not before making his unrest known. “Does he have to roll around like that? God, this kid looks so goddamn bubbly I think my eyes are about to explode.”_

_“It allows the press to see that they’re a name brand.” The same PR guy said. Peter liked him, he was letting him keep his shoes._

_Mr. Stark seemed placated by that, and held his hand out begrudgingly for Peter to take. “Right. Come on... uh... what was it?” He asked._

_Of course the man had forgotten his name._

_“Peter.” The boy reminded._

_“Peter. Got it. I hope your hands are clean.” Mr. Stark said, grimacing as his own son wrapped his hand around his, and tensing his arm in discomfort._

_-_

_“A fucking flu? Now? I need him at the gala next week!”_

_“Mr. Stark, it’s very common for schools to-” Mrs. Morales tried, but she got nowhere on the matter._

_The man continued shaking his phone around, showing his anger with the email he had gotten that morning from Peter’s school. “No, what the hell were they thinking, letting that get around? I have to stand with him all evening!”_

_“Peter hasn’t shown any symptoms yet, sir. He doesn’t even have a fever.” She explained, but it was a lost cause. He was livid._

_Mr. Stark glared at her one last time. “Well, I better not be getting sick, or it’s your head, Rio.”_

_“Yes sir, but-” _

_“What is it now?” The man groaned._

_Peter knew what it was. Mrs. Morales had been talking about this for weeks. He had tried to deter her, but she insisted._

_“I was wondering if, perhaps, my own son could stop by and give Peter a playmate.”_

_“A playmate? He’s, what, nine?”_

_“I’m twelve.” Peter informed him._

_Not that Mr. Stark had any reason to know that. He wasn’t even sure the man was aware of when his birthday was._

_“Even worse! I made it just fine without any playmates at that age. What happened to socializing him at school? That’s what you said you were doing during our last meeting.”_

_Mrs. Morales sighed. Peter understood. She had really wanted him to meet her Miles. “That was last year. With Mr. Robin? He told Miss Potts to inform you that it didn’t work out.”_

_Nothing would ever work out, Peter knew that by heart._

_“Too bad! I have a wedding happening in three weeks, and he better be spic and span and healthy when we get there. Goddamn PR hounds are forcing me to let him play junior groomsman, and I don’t want him standing next to Rhodeybear if he doesn’t have all his shots. Capiche?”_

_The woman nodded. Peter didn’t._

_Maybe he would just have to make himself sick like all the other rich kids so he didn’t have to go to that stupid wedding._

_But, no. He couldn’t do that to Miss Pepper. She wasn’t good, but she wasn’t horrible. Last week she had stopped by to give him a “we’re gonna be family” present. A watch with the lyrics to some Disney song on the inside._

_Peter hadn’t had the heart to tell her that he wasn’t allowed to watch Disney movies. She was smiling._

_-_

_“Peter, how does it feel having so many eyes on you growing up? Do you ever get sick of it?” The reporter asked._

_The boy put on a cheesy smile and giggled- not laughed. Laughing would age him. They were playing him young for this network._

_“No. People are usually pretty nice to me. And, if they aren’t, Dad takes care of it.” He recited, remembering how the script writers had told him to use the D-word in interviews._

_Tony faked a smile and tickled him on the side, forcing the boy to laugh uncontrollably, before going on with the pre-written response._

_“I basically get to live in the world’s _ _coolest building with the world’s coolest people for free, and the food’s good, too. Mom’s a great cook!” He squeaked._

_From off camera, Pepper smiled. She was buying it, at least. The gullible bitch._

_His current nanny, an older lady named Mrs. Xin, was standing next to her, giving him a somewhat reassuring thumbs up._

_“You’re a very lucky boy, then.” The interviewer exclaimed._

_Peter groaned internally, knowing the line he would have to use as a response for that claim. He hated lying. Hated it._

_He smiled back. “Luckiest kid in the world.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	21. In The Med Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Peter?” Tony asked.  
“Asshole?” Peter retorted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted this chapter to SWAS. It was up for thirteen minutes on the wrong story. I’m an idiot.

“Tony, I am going to fucking kill you.”

The man shook in fear, staring lost at his beautifully angry wife. “I got my kid back.” He explained.

Pepper seethed. “He’s unconscious, what the hell did you do to him?” She whispered, now noticing that the boy was still perfectly asleep, hair pillowing out around his head like a halo.

“You don’t get it, sweetheart. Kid went wild. He was going to hurt me- I... I think he was a little more upset than I expected.” He laid out, hoping she would get the message.

She did, unfortunately. “Of course he’s upset with you!” She whisper-shouted, “Steve only told me five minutes ago that you tried to fucking win him over- Tony, you can’t do that!”

He gasped, aghast. “Who says?” He asked.

_“I say!_ Tony, you hurt that boy. You hurt your son. My son, too, don’t you forget. He was _supposed _to be _my_ son. God, he probably hates me, I never... I couldn’t have imagined that you were this horrible. You don’t even realize-”

“I realize just fine, Pep.” The man refused.

Pepper shook her head, and almost walked out of the room, but took one quick detour to stop by Peter. She pressed a gentle kiss to his head, knowing that it was partly her own fault that she had never shown such affection before.

She thought the boy just needed time, that he was still grieving his own mother and wasn’t ready for a replacement. 

Pepper should have questioned it.

-

Peter awoke from his nightmare to find himself laying in the med bay.

Or, at least, he thought it was themed bay. He’d only been here once, back when that god forsaken spider gave him a run for his money in eighth grade. Otherwise, it was strictly forbidden.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” Tony said.  
  
Peter jumped at the sudden notice of the man’s presence in the room, having figured he was alone- like always.

_Thanks, spidey sense_, he thought, _way to watch my six_.

“So... we have some things to talk about.” Tony stated, plain as day and simple. Like he wasn’t literally standing over his son in the most menacing way possible.

Peter sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Not in the mood.” He seethed.

“I didn’t ask if you were in the mood.” The man pressured, stepping closer.

Tony grabbed a chair from against the wall, and sat down in it with obvious discomfort. Emotional or physical, Peter could care less.

“Come on, Pete, let’s work this out.” He requested.

But the boy wouldn’t say boo. “Maybe I don’t want to work it out with you. Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes were burning now, the bright lights seemingly trying to blind him. Even if his senses hadn’t been dialed up to eleven, this would still be too much.

Tony looked at his boy with pleading eyes. “Son...” he begged, helplessly wading in the rift of the room.

“I’m not your son. You don’t deserve that.” Peter seethed back at him, seemingly angry. What had he caused?

He needed to be strong. He had to. It was the only way of fixing things. He couldn’t let Peter get away with throwing a tantrum every time something doesn’t work out. 

Tony chose to threatened. “Kid, I’m about to lose it-” he started, but the finish never made it. Peter was too quick. 

“You already lost _me_.

The man was shocked. “What?” He stammered, completely confused by the accusation.

He had found Peter. His boy was right here in front of him, talking and blinking and breathing all the like. And he claimed to be lost? How so?

“Don’t you realize?” Peter accused, “There is no forgive and forget. You can’t just try and storm into my life after a little scare. I’m not ready for that kind of heartbreak again. You can go off and die for all I care, Tony Stark, because you will _never _be my father.”

The billionaire struggled. “Peter, you don’t understand...”

“I do. I really do. If you’d excuse me, I’d like to be alone.” The boy heeded, fire still burning in his eyes as the healing factor struggled to keep his sight within reach.

Tony paused.

“Listen, I’ve had a lot of time to think while you were gone. And I was mad, of course I was, but I realized just how much I had failed you. I was being... awful, really. So, I was hoping to make up for it with what time we have left. I’m getting older but I’m not dead yet, and it seems like I didn’t quite fix everything after Afghanistan. Maybe we can agree not to forget, but to forgive...?”

But Peter, Peter wasn’t buying. This man had hurt him, and no matter what journey of self-discovery he had been through, it wasn’t enough to call it _all_ off. 

He glared in return. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I forgive you.” The boy said.

“I’m willing to try, Peter.”

“I’m not.”

“Even for a little while?”

Peter paused, and considered. The man wasn’t forcing him into it, he was giving an option. That... that’s a start. A stark contrast to their previous business arrangement.

Still, not good enough. “If you think you’ve changed, you’re delusional. Just as self-centered as ever. Only thinking about yourself. Does it matter at all what I say? I keep telling you to _leave me alone_.” The boy retorted.

Tony shot right back. This wouldn’t be the end of him. He had to do this for Peter’s sake. “I won’t. I’m going to stay right here by your side.” He reminded. 

The boy sulked for a minute, unsure of what else to do. “Be a man and piss your pants for all I care, then. You’ll leave eventually.”

“Bathroom and kitchen is right down the hall, kiddo. Won’t take me more than five minutes and I’ll be back. No need to miss me.” He said.

Peter groaned at the allegation of him ever missing the man before him. “I’d shit.”

Tony smiled. “Please?”

“You’re not gonna give up, are you?” Peter asked. “No.” “I will _never_ forget the way you treated me. Nothing is going to change what you did.”

Tony gave a sad sigh as he ran his hand through his son’s hair, noticing how... not curly is was. Had it always been this straight? It was wavy, sure, and the curls still lingered, but they looked so tamed. What happened to the crazy flying ribbons that the boy used to have? When had they calmed down?

“Forgiveness. That’s all I want.” He reminded.

Peter seemed less than placated. “Stick to it for a year. Then we can talk.”

“I will.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Some time passed, Tony couldn’t keep track of how much. The boy just waited in silence, hoping that he would be granted some alone time so that he could figure out where to go from here.

“Peter?” Tony asked.

“Asshole?” Peter retorted.

“I love you.”

God, he was saying it again. How soft had Tony gone while he was missing?

Peter shot back, ignoring the sentiment. “Call Karen, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Tony turned on his heels and sighed, reaching for the doorknob. “Okay. _Okay_.”

But, before he could leave, Peter gave one last comment. “Come by in the morning, please?”

Tony’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

”You got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	22. The Room Where It Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She pulled out some of the bloodwork, showing where the little marking aligned themselves on the sheet. To the side, letters and numbers were sprawled out. “These sections here, you see?” The doctor said, pointing to a certain spot, “Those aren’t found in human DNA. It’s impossible. You know where they are found? Steatoda nobilis. A type of spider.”

“You came.”

“That I did.” Tony agreed, sitting back down in that same too-hard chair. They really needed to up the Med Bay’s furniture budget. A few thousand should do.

Peter smiled, chuckling at Tony’s discomfort. “A pleasure, I’m sure.” He contended.

It was nice to see the man out of place, for once looking like he couldn’t fit in with the situation. Like, for the first time in his pathetic little life, he wasn’t in control. Like Peter.

“Looks like I rubbed off on you a little.” Tony suggested. He noticed all those little similarities, those same one liners he had used back in his partying days.

God, 15. Peter was just the right age to start those habits. Maybe he needed to lower security on the kid, but concern was warranted. He was so smart, so sweet. How could all that be allowed to go to waste?

“Which of the three times you ever spoke to me do you think taught me that?” Peter questioned haughtily.

Tony laughed at the first memory to come to his mind. That day Happy had spoke of. His mind filled with images of a little boy in red pajamas, laying so still in the backseat of his father’s multimillion dollar vehicle, trying to come with him. 

The other day, when Happy had mentioned it, he’d tossed those memories off with a wave of his hand. Today, looking down at that same little boy- all grown up, he couldn’t bare it. “Probably that time you snuck into my car and rode to the airport with me.” He chuckled.

“Bold guess, Happy was the one who talked. You just kinda... sat there looking annoyed.” Peter taunted. A fair point, the boy figured. That man was claiming love and now he claimed to have taught him through past events that he was barely present for?

Maybe Peter did inherit one trait from Tony.

Pride.

“I see you have a chip on your shoulder.” The man acknowledged.

Peter scoffed. “I deserve to.” “I never said you didn’t.” Tony countered. The boy seethed, rolling his eyes in remorse. “Then what did you say?” He asked.

“Peter, let’s try. Please.” The man begged, leaning over from his chair to place his arms on the edge of Peter’s knees, so that the uncomfortable chair squeaked eagerly under him.

“No.” The boy shook his head, hair flying in the motion. “Peter.” Tony warned. “I don’t want to.” 

“Buddy,” Tony tried, “if this doesn’t get better, if- if I sit around and do the same shit I’ve been doing to you for the last fifteen years then I beg of you that you slap me across the face and murder me in cold blood. I’ll deserve it. I deserve it now.”

Peter paused. “What’s the proposal?” He questioned.

“Just like you said last night. One year.” Tony spoke. 

The boy shook. “A whole year?” “Of good behavior. That’s all I need. Let me prove it to you, Peter, please.” The man countered. He couldn’t lose him. 

Not again.

Peter shrugged, feigning indifference. He wasn’t sure what to think, really. “I’ll think about it.” He assured.

“Then I’ll sit right here and let you, okay?” Tony smiled, before pausing. “That is, unless you want me to leave?” He asked. Peter smirked. “You wouldn’t leave last night.” He noted.

The man groaned a little, jesterly sighing. “Out of protection.” He joked. Peter smiled a little at the effort. “I would rather you go.” He said, honestly.

Tony sputtered, but slowly stood from his seat, exiting the room. “Oh. Well, call me in when you’re ready, then. Bye.”

“Bye.”

-

“Tony! Oh my god, I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” Cho cried, running after the man like a madwoman on a rampage.

Tony chuckled. “You didn’t think to check my son’s medical room?” He asked.

Cho blushed at that, an unsure look coating her features like hardened sugar. Of course, Tony figured, she also thought of him as a horrible father. He supposed he deserved that.

“What is it?” The man asked impatiently, not wanting to bother over his own self-hatred. For now.

“It’s just- Peter’s bloodwork from the tests we ran-” The woman began, but was quickly interrupted by the slightly confused father. “Out of caution.” He reminded, “You promised me there wouldn’t be anything wrong with him, you said he was just knocked out. That he could leave the Med Bay in a couple of days, Cho.”

The doctor cleared her theoat at the threatening tone. “There isn’t anything wrong with him, that’s the issue.” She continued.

“What?” The man questioned. Nothing wrong with Peter was... good? Right? “Tony, these gene sequences are... so, so weird.” She explained, flabbergasted.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Everything is weird in biology.” He said, amused but still concerned. “But, when we tracked the proteins, there’s only one thing we can link these back to.” Cho contended.

She pulled out some of the bloodwork, showing where the little marking aligned themselves on the sheet. To the side, letters and numbers were sprawled out. “These sections here, you see?” The doctor said, pointing to a certain spot, “Those aren’t found in human DNA. It’s impossible. You know where they are found? Steatoda nobilis. A type of spider.”

“I know what that is.” Tony glared. Cho did the same. “Then you should be concerned.” She said. 

Tony chuckled. “Why? Those things aren’t that venomous. Just a little nausea.” “The only way its DNA sequences could be found in Peter’s blood would be if he had gone through a mutation process.”

Oh. Oh. Now- now that is concerning. Really concerning.

“The hell?” The man asked.

Cho quirked a brow. “You said he tried to hurt you. Did he seem- otherwise enabled?” “You mean enhanced?” Tony interrogated.

“Potentially. This kind of thing, Tony, would require so many variables. It’s all theoretical, a colleague of mine did a paper on this once. She talked about how, if a false widow spider came into contact with enough radiation, just the right amount to change its venom production rate but not kill it, it’s bite could be a cause for mutation.”

“You’re telling me...”

“I’m sorry, Tony. I can’t tell you anything for sure. You’ll need to ask Peter what the hell happened.”

Tony sighed, his head resting in his hands as the paperwork was shoved roughly into a small cabinet, a padlock slammed over it. “Not today. He- I just want to worry about redemption right now. Maybe- if I- or- I don’t know. Later.”

“That’s a lot to carry.” Cho acknowledged.

The man looked at her, dead on. His eyes black and dangerous as he threatened her job, her life, for the sake of his son. “You have to know something.” He warned.

Cho smiled, turning around and going to exit the room now that the blood was off her hands, slammed tightly into a cabinet of lies. “Just one thing.” She noted. 

“He’s definitely not human.”

-

“Tony?” Peter called.

The man’s voice rang out as he came dashing into the room, destiny abound and singing a tune in a glaring minor key. “Yeah, bud? I’m right here.”

Peter smirked at the enthusiasm. “I’ve thought it over.” He assured. 

“You have?”

“Mhm.”

Peter stared at him, face chastising but also light. “One year. No second chances. You go back to that same shit once and I am packing my bags for good, running off to Neverland with MJ, and you won’t even try to stop me. And if you do, I’ll go to every media outlet in this city- don’t think I don’t have those pricks wrapped around my finger thanks to your PR team- and spread every oiece of dirt I have. Deal?” He bartered.

Tony, ever an arrogant prick who couldn’t see past the fact that he had gotten what he wanted, didn’t even ask a follow up question. He didn’t bring in a second opinion. 

Because he was so fucking used to having everything handed to him, this was just another tuesday in the Stark household.

“Yes, yes, anything.” The businessman pleaded. “And I- I know I haven’t made the most out of my time yet. But eventually, maybe not quite today, I’d like to talk it through. I want to be better.” He lied.

The boy nodded, checking that everything was understood. “Good.” He mumbled. Brief moments passed for that little while, neither male willing to break it to voice his concerns. 

“One year.” Peter reminded, his face cold and barren as stone, a challenging way about him. This asshole wasn’t going to last a week, and, unless he wanted the much bigger PR scandal of having his runaway son denounce his name in public over years of abuse and neglect, him and MJ would be picking up Ned in one of the Audis by Friday.

Tony smiled waveringly in return. “One year.”

** ~TO BE CONTINUED~ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all, folks! I will see you in the next story, so keep an eye out. This sequel is gonna be great.  
As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!  
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